


(I swear) I respect the hero

by chibixkadaj



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Empath, M/M, Polyamory, Songfic, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibixkadaj/pseuds/chibixkadaj
Summary: NCT Powers AU || Doyoung x Taeyong / Johnny x Ten (x Taeyong) / Yuta x TaeyongAn empath with questionable tastes and firm morals, Taeyong's world turns upside down when he falls for the one person he shouldn't have-- human politician Kim Doyoung. Trapped between his dedication to protect his own kind and the only person who has helped him forget all he's lost in the past, Taeyong faces choices that no amount of superpower could have ever prepared him for.Alternatively:: When caring is ingrained in his DNA, Taeyong gives and gives to counteract everything that he gets-- wanted and not.Inspired by THE ORAL CIGARETTES「狂乱 Hey Kids!!」





	1. The Prologue

Taeyong has always been touchy. He remembers holding onto his mother’s hand long after they crossed the threshold of their small house. He remembers clinging to his instructor even after he’d learned how to swim. And of course he remembers all those long nights where he pressed himself against his best friend, fingers interlocked, underneath the cover of blankets and moonlight; long after curfew bid them to sleep.

But how could he not?

For as long as Taeyong remembers himself he remembers Yuta by his side; the boy so electric he set off sparks when they touched. Literally. Taeyong remembers giggling like a madman the first time the tips of their fingers pressed and Yuta ignited light between them. It quickly became Taeyong’s favorite thing shared between them and any chance he could take to bring that light back again he would.

Even now he thinks about it-- years after. And sometimes he catches himself looking down at his fingers in hopes that something in  _ him _ can cause those sparks again. But they’re all Yuta’s. They’ll always be Yuta’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for embarking on this journey with me!  
> This chapter's song is none other than The Oral Cigarettes's "Hey Kids!" and Kami-sama, I have noticed's "Unhappy Club"  
> I recommend giving them a listen while reading :)

Taeyong’s breath is labored, legs barely bracketing the waist of a large being who wiggles and thrashes beneath him. He’s lucky he has as strong of a hold on their wrists as he does. He’s even luckier that this creature commands all things slow and languid.

“Gods have no purpose here,” he pants. “Isn’t it more fun at home where you’re free?”

“More space,” the God groans, attempting to pull once more at Taeyong’s grip. “More movement. More fun.”

“You don’t even move that much?” Taeyong’s feeling a little exasperated now. The power that’s draining from the other into him isn’t the most useful, even if it’s limiting their strength. ‘ _Does a God of Slowness become faster or slower when it’s power is drained?’_ Taeyong wonders as he dares to wrench a hand away, reaching for a talisman in his back pocket. “You’ll thank me when…” His teeth grit when he slaps it down on the beings forehead, “w-when you’re safe at home. Slowness will only get you caught by the bad guys. T-trust me...I’m not them.”

The thin paper is glowing beneath his fingers. Johnny works magic (no pun intended) with his handcrafted charms and talismans--it’s almost ironic considering his curse-- and Taeyong fortunately doesn’t need to memorize the volumes of spells he has in order to activate their powers. Not every case needs spells, but Gods and angels generally won’t leave this world otherwise so Taeyong is always grateful to have this trick in his back pocket. Literally.

The being’s mouth drops open but no sound escapes. Maybe it’s an effect of its sluggishness, but Johnny takes great care to ensure his work isn’t painful and Taeyong likes to rely on that. He smiles weakly, brows pinched upward in a mix of hope and pleading. Slowness isn’t flooding him as powerfully as the being’s sadness and it _hurts_ to be holding to them now. “It’ll be okay,” Taeyong tries to coax, loosening his grip and patting its shoulder once. “I promise it’ll be better.”

His knees hit the ground with a thud, bodyweight fell forward onto his hands, and he takes a moment here to pause; to breathe out the foreign emotions he’d taken unto himself and shake away the fatigue nipping at his muscles. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Sad but hopeful. His own hopefulness that he needed to chase away the rest of it. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Calm.

Until he hears something shift around him.

Taeyong’s spine snaps upright but his feet can’t seem to catch him quick enough. He falls back on his knees with a faint _crack_ but his eyes and hands are elsewhere. “Who’s there?” He calls, swallowing hard in hopes to keep his voice steady. He comfortably ignores the fact that he’s basically on his hands and knees.

“Uh…Sorry?” The stranger returns, stepping into Taeyong’s vision with his hands held up at his side, as if he wasn’t the one between them who just caught using illegal means to dispose of an illegal being.

“Sorry?” Taeyong echoes, pushing himself onto jelly-turned legs. Even standing he’s only so tall compared to the other. Taeyong doesn’t want to acknowledge their height difference, instead focusing on his speed and how, if...when needed, he could probably take off faster than he could be caught.

“Didn’t I just walk in on something...well, to be honest it looked rather intimate.” This human (Taeyong assumes since he can’t get a proper read on him otherwise) speaks very surely. His cheeks don’t even flush despite the thousands of ideas he could have regarding Taeyong’s positioning with the God of Slowness. It leaves him feeling rather...uncertain.

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Taeyong corrects, voice dangerously close to squeaking. “It was nothing. Just...forget. Forget it. You didn’t see anything.”

“I didn’t think I did- I mean...Well. I was actually kind of curious. What was that?”

“None of your business.”

The human’s lips part to protest, brows kind of furrowed and Taeyong thinks he’s kind of _feisty_ but he relents instead. “You’re right. It’s not any of my business.”

 _Nod and be on your way._ So Taeyong starts, head moving once, feet carrying his weight as he turned his back to the black haired male. _Nod now be on your way_. He takes a step.

Then blacks out before he can get any further.

\- - -

Taeyong rolls onto his side with a soft groan, into a scent sweet but incredibly foreign. He bolts upright, head swimming in the dizziness, dark eyes trying to refocus while his mind wraps around the notions of _danger! danger!_

He blinks away some of the fuzzies, a knuckle rubbing the sleep out of his eye until he can finally take in his surroundings. His own apartment is an unnatural state of clean and though this place isn’t messy it’s definitely not right. It’s not his. He’s not home; not his home anyway.

“You’re up,” A voice calls calmly across the bedroom. Taeyong’s eyes settle on the same human from before and his spine stiffens. “I won’t hurt you!” The stranger says hurriedly, then clears his throat before another squeak can come out. “Sorry. I know it’s startling. _I_ was startled when you passed out. Are you okay? There’s water on the bedside table. I can get you something to eat.”

Taeyong glances to the glass. Now that he’s thinking about it he’s incredibly thirsty but he doesn’t trust that the glass isn’t poisoned somehow. Even if it didn’t fully make sense for the human to wait for him to wake up before offing him…or turning him in, some people are incredibly cruel like that.

“Thanks…” He mutters, taking it between his palms. He revels in the coolness of the condensation around the glass, even letting his eyes shut for a moment. Taeyong hardly did well in his usual settings. New places fucked him up.

“You’re safe here,” The stranger offers up after a moment. It pulls Taeyong from his thoughts; less the words and more the painful honesty he feels he can hear in the other’s voice.

Ten always teased him for being too soft. _“I’m an empath. I’m designed to be soft,”_ he’d argue back.

“I...hope you don’t mind,” Taeyong licked over his bottom lip and glanced back to the other. “It’s hard to fully feel safe when I don’t even know your name.”

“You and I both know it’s not _my name_ that’s making you feel uneasy,” The human chuckles lightheartedly, arms folding over his chest as he leans against the doorway. Taeyong notes the way his lips pull back to reveal his gums when he smiles. It’s...cute. It makes his eyes seem softer. When he’s not smiling the human has a gaze that burns long and heavy; very opposite to Taeyong’s own dagger sharp look. Maybe if he wasn’t so terrified he’d laugh along with him--it feels like it could be infectious.

“You’re right. It’s not your lack of name,” Taeyong’s fingers gripped tighter at the glass. “But if i don’t own up to anything you can’t use it against me.”

The smile falters. “Have you...been in a position like that before?”

“No. But I don’t want to start now.”

“Can’t I do anything to show you I can be trusted?”

Taeyong contemplates for a moment. Part of him is getting impatient. He just wants to go home and rest in his own bed before Ten bursts in on him panicked that it’s been far too long since mission’s end and he hasn’t checked in. But he knows from shifting the slightest bit that his body is still too laden with residual slowness and it’ll take more than holding a cup of water to replenish his strength. He needs the human’s help.

What a fucking drag.

“Come here,” Taeyong extends a hand out between them. The human blinks but doesn’t hesitate beyond that, placing his palm into Taeyong’s own. Here Taeyong can pull the answers he needs.The human feels concerned, but not scared in a way that tells Taeyong he’ll rat him out at any moment. His thumb swipes over the back of the other’s hand, drinking in the smoothness of his skin along with the course of his emotions. Maybe he indulges for a second too long…

He finally lets go and locks their eyes. “Sorry. Okay I trust you.”

“You didn’t do anything but hold my hand?”

“Sure,” now it’s Taeyong’s turn to grin. “Let’s leave it at that.”

The human blinks down at his palm, turning his hand over and over again. Taeyong knows he’s looking for some sort of markage. Does he not trust him? No..that’s not what fills the air. It’s still nothing but intrigue.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Taeyong says flatly. The human’s eyes go wide.

“Are you a mind reader?”

“No chance,” Taeyong snorts. Humans always jump to the most basic of conclusions, don’t they? “Mind readers are annoying. They’re always cutting in and finishing your sentences and stuff.”

Somehow the human’s eyes blow even wider, glossy with excitement and intrigue. “So you know mind readers?”

“Yeah. Well, just one. He’s an asshole but he’s proud of it.” Sorry Sicheng. Love you.

“I guess I should’ve known you’re not a mind reader since you still don’t know my name.”

“That would’ve been a good tip off,” Taeyong agrees. “So what _is_ your name?”

“Kim Doyoung,” The human extends his hand out again thoughtlessly. Maybe he feels safe since Taeyong hadn’t marked him up. Maybe he’s forgotten about that concern entirely. “And you?”

“Lee Taeyong,” Taeyong takes it again tentatively, swallowing as he’s pricked with the other’s excitement.

“Nice to meet you, Lee Taeyong. Sorry for the...weird circumstances. I hope you understand that I couldn’t just leave you passed out and don’t mind that I brought you here.” There’s a twitch in the corner of Doyoung’s lips and though it goes unsaid Taeyong thinks he understands. He hasn’t been unfront about his powers but Doyoung saw _something_ that was abnormal and, by extension, illegal. If he hadn’t taken Taeyong in there was far too high a chance that one of the many Cleaning Crews would have and then he’d really be a goner.

Before Taeyong can say anything Doyoung pipes up again, “You sure I can’t get you anything? I was making pancakes before you woke up.”

Taeyong perks up at that. “Sure. I love pancakes.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit then.” There’s that gummy grin again. Taeyong pats his cheeks to will away the heat rising in them.

He eventually stalks out of the bedroom, noting that it is the only bedroom in the place hence Doyoung’s and he’s all too suddenly feeling equal parts grateful and guilty for the other’s sacrifice.

“You didn’t have to get up,” Doyoung comments, hardly sparing Taeyong a glance as he hops onto one of the high chairs at his kitchen counter. Doyoung’s apartment is nice: clean granite tile, white walls, minimalist. The place of Taeyong’s dreams...almost. There are little things catching the corner of Taeyong’s eyes-- things like unfolded clothes draped over furniture, cobwebs in a few corners, and dishes in the sink. His fingers twitch but he settles on _not_ being a god damn weirdo and scrubbing Doyoung’s apartment clean during their first meeting.

“You didn’t have to make me pancakes,” Taeyong retorts. “But here we are.”

Doyoung spins around, three fluffy pancakes stacked and ready as if on command. “Syrup and fruit are in the refrigerator if you want it.”

“I feel like…” Taeyong starts but then thinks better of it. Instead he slips from the high chair and makes the six steps around the counter to retrieve both the syrup and fruit (strawberries, Taeyong’s second favorite!)

“You feel like?”

Taeyong feels Doyoung’s dark, intrigued eyes on him but he keeps his own away. “Like...you’re trying to woo me,” he mumbles. Doyoung laughs but doesn’t say anything else.

When Taeyong finally manages to weasel his way into doing the dishes (all of the dishes) Doyoung speaks up again, “Kim Doyoung, 26.”

Taeyong blinks but doesn’t bother to turn and look. He doesn’t catch the way Doyoung is wringing his hands underneath the counter or how his eyes shift back and forth.

“Well I knew your name already but if you wanted to show off how young you are I guess it’s--”

“I’m a politician.”

Taeyong pauses.

“I’m telling you this now because I...I really do want to learn about you and your abilities and pretty much anything you’ll tell me. But I don’t want you to think I’m doing this to be sneaky. I know how our government is about...you.”

Your kind. Your abilities. Doyoung doesn’t need to say it for Taeyong to get it. At least he didn’t add something tactless like “things” or “your type.” The plate in between his fingers trembles and he swallows once, twice, then a third time because his throat is suddenly so dry but he doesn’t want to cough. The nail of his thumb starts to scratch at the skin of his cuticle.

“I hope you’ll continue to trust me Taeyong.” There’s a _please_ lingering somewhere in his voice. “I haven’t done anything to hurt you and I would never start.”

Doyoung’s justification is sound but the fact that he has to justify? That leaves Taeyong a little on edge. He rinses the final plate and turns back to the other, shaky legs and thudding heart. Anxious for far too many obvious reasons (and far too many more that shouldn’t even have been thoughts in his head.)

“We just met,” he says.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t trust me. You held my hand and said it was fine just a bit ago right? Remember?”

Taeyong sighs and slowly strips the pink rubber away from his skin, letting them flop limply over the side of the sink. A sharp breath freezes in his lungs when he finally turns around to face Doyoung. “You’re right,” he says slowly, “But--”

“But you still have every right to be cautious. People can change. I know.” Doyoung finishes to Taeyong’s half surprise.

“Are you sure _you’re_ not the mind reader?”

Doyoung grins at that, one-half cheeky and one-half relieved at what their banter signifies. “ _So it’s okay?”_ He doesn’t ask because that puts a lot of pressure on the two of them, so he’ll let the silence hold onto his answer.

Eventually Taeyong relents. He knows he’s already being pegged as _something_ and at this point what his abilities are don’t matter as much as the fact that he has them in the first place. “I’m...an empath. I can feel whatever you’re feeling. Whatever anyone around me is feeling, really. That’s why I took your hand earlier. The more I’m connected the better of an understanding I can get.”

“I know what an empath is,” Doyoung interjects.

Taeyong’s nose twitches in annoyance. “Alright Mr. Know-It-All.” When the human starts laughing Taeyong’s eye joins in on the twitchy fun. “I swear to the Gods if you’re just going to make fun of me--”

“So is that what you were doing earlier? Reading that...thing’s emotions?”

“Mind your mouth that was a God.”

“Oh,” Doyoung looks actually horrified now. The smugness in his face is stripped away, leaving all sorts of unspoken apologies on his face. “I didn’t know. I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“And I wasn’t reading their emotions I was trying to send them home. I also...extract powers away from other people like...me.” Dark eyes fall onto his own hand as he continues and Taeyong’s brows scrunch a little bit. It’s a weird ability to have and even weirder to explain. “I work with a team; one tech junkie and one priest-descendent. Together we just...try to keep those like us safe before _other people_ can find and hurt them.”

“People like me.”

Taeyong wills his eyes back to Doyoung’s, exhaling into the sorrow in the air. “There are a lot of safe spaces that those who can’t go to other worlds can stay in. But if I can get those with homes back there it’s ultimately better. Especially Gods. If anything happened to a God here it could be a disaster.”

“What brings them here anyway?”

“Beats me,” Taeyong shrugged. He shifted his weight to lean forward against the countertop, across from Doyoung. “A lot of them just get bored and want to explore somewhere new. Where do you think we get our curiosity from if not the beings that helped make us?”

“I never...thought about that.” Doyoung lets out a hum. “I never really believed in Gods growing up I guess.”

“You’re not supposed to.” There’s danger lanced in his words and because of it Taeyong finds himself unable to meet Doyoung’s gaze head on. “We’re not supposed to be here, according to you. Humans have been writing us out for decades, or if not out of the story entirely then painting us as the bad guys. Not to say _I’m_ like a God or anything but...” A pink tongue swipes hesitantly over well-chewed lips. “If we don’t take care of our own no one else will. That’s why I do what I do.”

“That’s very noble of you Taeyong-ssi.”

Taeyong smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t do it to be noble. I do it because it’s right.”

Doyoung nods slowly. “Well…” he starts. “I hope that I can also do something right like that too.”

Although almost _always_ the type to give support whenever and however he could Taeyong stays silent this time. The mood in the air is muddied with a mixture of guilt and hope. Taeyong hates the grimey feeling it leaves on his skin. And though he does love being supportive of his friends, sometimes he dishes out praise if only to purify the air more. “I hope you can as well, Doyoung.”

Taeyong doesn’t linger much longer after that. Declining Doyoung’s offer for a shower he takes his phone off the charger the human let him borrow and slips it (and all one hundred unanswered panicked text messages from Ten and Johnny) into his pocket. “Thanks again for helping me out,” he lets sit in the air between them when he hovers by Doyoung’s apartment door. The human smiles but he doesn’t quite crease at his eyes.

“I’d like to see you again, Taeyong-ssi.”

“O-oh?”

“When I was younger my grandma used to share all sorts of stories about magic. Now that I know they’re real…” He pauses and ruffles his dark hair, “I’d like to get to know you better. And your world too. I’d always hoped what she told me wasn’t just stories and now that it’s not I want to learn more.”

Taeyong muddles over that for a moment. On the one hand he knows that trusting humans can come back and bite him in the ass. He was lucky that Doyoung didn’t sell him over to any authority, even if from the looks of his apartment he isn’t want for any additional cash. On the other he took more care of Taeyong than was needed. He made him pancakes. Ten’s voice is already nagging in the back of his head _“How could you give your information to a human?!”_ despite the hypocrisy that is his relationship with Johnny. _“But Johnny doesn’t count!”_ Johnny isn’t Doyoung. They know Johnny. They trust Johnny. Taeyong lets out a sigh through his nose.

Slowly he reaches back into his pocket and hands his phone over. “Put your number in?”

\- - -

“Are you going to text him or not?” Ten shoots across the room, dark eyes darting over his many screens. Three monitors sit before him, one head on and the two at its side and angled slightly. There’s a steady beeping resounding around the room from the radio censor he has on top of the far right most screen that only _just_ drowns out the humming of his many software ports. They’re not technically on the job today but ever-vigilant Ten just likes to know what’s going on; not to mention how he thrives off of any engagement he can have with machines. His position is a bit back, fingers tapping into the nothingness before him, keys registering on the screen about 5 feet away. And when Ten taps at his temple his eyes glaze over in a grid of light green against black; scanning the data he’s pulled.  

“I don’t know,” Taeyong huffs, shifting in the ratty maroon armchair in the corner of an otherwise empty room. He throws his leg over the right armrest, heading falling over the left. “Should I?”

“No,” Ten says flatly. “But you took his number for a reason so you might as well. At least if you’re never going to talk to him again you could do him the favor of telling him rather than ghosting him.”

“You sound bitter. Is it because you think he’s cute? Cuter than Johnny?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like!” Ten shoots back, indignant despite the way his ears turn red in embarrassment. Taeyong knows he’s already done a full background check. “And no one’s cuter than Johnny.”

“I’m cuter than Johnny.”

“Can we stop talking about who’s cuter than Johnny?!” The male in question squawks. “And if I may, I think you should just text him Taeyong.”

“And say what?” The empath asks as if he doesn’t have his Kakaotalk already open. He lets out a laugh. Doyoung’s profile has already popped up in his “New Contacts” list. His username is Dotokki and his status message is a bunny emoji. Not very becoming of politician but definitely on the fast track to Taeyong’s interests.

“Thank him for saving your flat ass?” Ten chimes.

Taeyong’s lips pull into a line. _Flat_ ass? Rude.

“You know I can feel when you text right.”

“You’re worse than Sicheng! Can’t a guy do anything here in peace?”

“You read our emotions, how are you even any better?”

Taeyong _tch’s_ between his teeth, glancing over his unsent message.

“If you don’t do it I’m sending it for you.” Ten’s shoots his circuit-glistening gaze over to Taeyong and smirks.

“Don’t! I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

_Lty95 [16:04]: Hey It’s taeyong. Thanks again for saving my butt^^ sorry it took so long to text you I’ve been a bit busy_

He sighs and slumps further in the armchair, “I did it.”

“I bet he likes you. He’s messaging back so quickly.”

“Ten what the hell are you--!” The armchair nearly topples over with the weight of Taeyong practically jumping from it when his phone buzzes in his lap. “God I hate you so much,” he mutters, swiping open his app.

 _Dotokki [16:04]: No worries I understand. I’m happy to hear from you!_  
_Dotokki [16:05]: Are you feeling better?_  
_Lty95 [16:06]: Yeah. I am thanks^^_  
_Dotokki [16:06]: Good I was still worried @@  
Lty95 [16:07]: haha don’t be I’ve been through worse_

“Doesn’t he have to work?”

“Ten I swear to god if you’re reading my messages I will come over there and personally extract all of your abilities from you permanently.”

“You can’t do that,” Ten sticks his tongue out smugly and makes a sound not unlike a _nya_.

 _Dotokk [16:08]: That doesn’t make me feel better_  
_Lty95 [16:11]: I wasn’t trying to^^_  
_Dotokki [16:12]: I’d rather our next meeting not be another passing out on the job scenario if I can help it. Let’s meet when we can both stay conscious?_  
_Lty95 [16:14]: so no late night bar hops_  
_Dotokki [16:15]: Is that the only way?_

Taeyong let out a soft laugh.

 _lty95 [16:17]: not the only way but..._  
_Lty95 [16:17]: I’ll be free Saturday evening unless something happens. We can meet then?_  
_Dotokki [16:18]: Sure! Let me know what’s best for you so you’re not uncomfortable_  
_Dotokki [16:19]: If you want to come over again that’s also open_  
_Lty95 [16:20]: let’s do that. Your place at 19:00? Remind me your address._

“You’re playing a very dangerous game. You know that, right Tyong?” There’s an edge to Ten’s voice when he glances back over again strong enough that it pulls Johnny to his side. The older’s hands fall onto Ten’s shoulders and massages them gently but his eyes are fixed onto Taeyong too, expressing the same sort of hesitance that Ten’s tone is try to mask.

The empath lets out a sigh. Sometimes he wishes his friends could feel things the same way he can. Maybe then they’d be able to key into the cocktail of intrigue, speculation, anxiety, and reproach he felt towards himself for giving a fraction of his thoughts towards this stranger-- this human. Taeyong’s always been teased for his _tsundere_ behavior, and he’s always teased back because his friends are huge anime nerds, but when the joking was set to rest it was just _hard_ for him to express himself. He feels so many things all the time; he’s learned to wrap most of them up tight to keep it all from leaking out. But on days where he finds himself unsure yet eager for something new--someone new--it’d be nice to have anyone understand him on a level he can’t comfortably express.

“I know,” he says instead. “I’ll be careful okay? Just trust me.” Then he lets out a laugh. “And if I don’t make it back alive just know I can already hear you say ‘I told you so.’”

Ten’s face scrunches in frustration but at least Johnny laughs.

\- - -

It’s Saturday. Taeyong feels fortunate the the impromptu mission he had kind of anticipated only took up the majority of the morning into early afternoon, giving him time to shower and change and jot down Doyoung’s address for Ten in case anything happened to him. He may not have had a lot of rest time that day but he at least managed to arrive five minutes earlier than stated with a container of strawberries in his hand.

“What’re those for?” Doyoung chuckles, stepping aside to let Taeyong inside.

“I ate almost your entire container when I was here last time. It’s only fair that I replenish it.”

Doyoung shakes his head in a _you didn’t have to_ sort of way but doesn’t say anything else about it.

“I realized a little too late when I said you could come over I didn’t have too much planned out in terms of...well, plans. I don’t even have too much to cook. Sorry, I’m probably not the best host.”

Taeyong takes the same seat in the high chair at the counter and shrugs. “We could always hit up that bar.”

“What part of not wanting you to pass out again did not make it through to you?”

Taeyong chuckles, placing the strawberries between them on the counter. “Well we have these?”

They skip a “proper” dinner but Taeyong finds enough ingredients to make them strawberry shortcakes. Doyoung doesn’t have whipped cream so Taeyong used the rest of his syrup for an impromptu recipe that only half held together. But it works and they enjoy it overall.

“All of my friends give me shit for having a sweet tooth,” Taeyong says only half bitterly, licking at his spoon. Doyoung’s eyes trail over his tongue for a moment before he shoots them back up to Taeyong’s gaze. Then he pops a strawberry between his lips as if the pause was nothing. “You’re in good company. Not only do I also love sweet foods I also get shit for it.”

“Oh?”

“I’m already one of the youngest politicians in our district. The fact that I have a sweet tooth only makes them treat me even more like a kid.”

“Wow, everyone sucks huh?” They share a laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” But Taeyong does and they both know it.

They chat a bit more, away from work and people; instead focusing on sharing favorite cafes and dessert recipes. Doyoung doesn’t often have time to cook with his schedule--or really a need, from what Taeyong’s gleaned about his income levels--but he likes to every now and then. Taeyong would have considered culinary school if Fate hadn’t dictated otherwise. Taeyong is also reminded he’s only a year-ish older than Doyoung, even if they seem leagues apart. Honestly on most days Taeyong feels like a full-fledged mess with a hole in the wall apartment and an illegal, underground operation paying almost all of his bills. Looking at Doyoung, Taeyong feels like the human should be at least 5 years his senior-- but maybe that’s the privilege of being allowed to live freely. He’s not jealous, just...thinking about their difference. He logs having a place like this as one of his future goals.

Doyoung pours them both a cup of tea each before Taeyong, warm and satiated in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, gets ready to take his leave.

“Thanks for having me over. Feel better now that I didn’t pass out?”

“Almost,” Doyoung smiles his gummy smile and leans against the front closet. His arms are folded across his chest and if Taeyong stares long enough he thinks he seeks the slight form of  muscle underneath his long sleeve t-shirt. “Get back home without passing out and I’ll feel fine.”

“Okay, okay,” Taeyong laughs as he slips his worn out combat boots over his heel. “Jeez you let exhaustion get the better of you _one time_ and you never hear the end of it.”

Doyoung laughs, too, then says, “I had a lot of fun tonight. If you want to come over again you’re always welcome. A lot of my friends either moved too far away or are too busy even for relaxed nights at home. And since I’m not much of a party person I don’t usually get to catch them when they’re free.” Not much of a party person and not able to be one, Taeyong has keyed into. The lament that lingers around them both just confirms his suspicion. Must be hard being both a public figure and having an impeccable reputation. Taeyong can only relate on one front.

“It was fun,” he agrees. “I will-...I’d uh, like to, I mean. Let’s meet up again. Just let me know when you’re free.” Taeyong winces slightly. For once can he just not be awkward…

\- - -

 _Outta10 [11:30]: How was it?_  
_lty95 [00:45]: honestly?_  
_lty95 [00:46]: ;;; kind of great_  
_lty95 [00:48]: we made strawberry shortcake and talked for a long time_  
_Outta10 [00:49]: what the heck you’re up so late_  
_Outta10 [00:49]: who are you_  
_Outta10 [00:49]: what did he do to my wonderful taeyong_  
_lty95 [00:50]: stop :|| I’ll never tell you anything again_  
_Outta10 [00:51]: no but wait_  
_Outta10 [00:52]: that sounds like your dream date_  
_Outta10 [00:52]: Taeyong was this a DATE_  
_lty95 [00:53]: NO_  
_lty95 [00:53]: not at all_  
_lty95 [00:53]: but..._  
_Outta10 [00:57]: but?_  
_Outta10 [01:00]: you’re killing me WHAT is it!!!  
lty95 [01:03]: ...maybe I wish it was_

Taeyong slips into the apartment a little after one in the morning, just having bid Ten (and Johnny by extension) an online good night so as to not disturb them in their room, despite knowing Ten’s awake and would happily greet his roommate. Or is it good morning? He isn’t usually up this late to have to discern the difference. He showers quickly and crawls into bed, about to turn his light off when he remembers and grabs his phone off his bedside table again.

 _lty95 [01:35]: Made it home without passing out!_  
_lty95 [01:36]: but now that I am home I can’t make that same promise._  
_lty95 [01:36]: thanks again Doyoung, I had a lot of fun_  
_lty95 [01:37]: ^^_  
_Dotokki [1:37]: Thanks for letting me know!  
Dotokki [1:38]: Sleep well Taeyong-ah. Let’s meet again soon!_

  
_‘Yeah,’_ Taeyong thinks as he returns his phone to its charger and buries himself between three plush pillows and his comforter. _‘Okay, Doyoung. Let’s meet really soon.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, thoughts, and feedback are loved <3  
> You can find me on Twitter: @ChibiKadaj or cc https://curiouscat.me/ChibixKadaj


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's theme is Mrs. Green Apple's "WanteD! WanteD!" -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbISczErpKY
> 
> This song is also, truly, Taeyong's personal and romantic vibe, aesthetic, and theme song. We love a melancholy boy <3

 

Taeyong slips into the bar. Ten is still buzzing in his pocket but he doesn’t pay it too much attention other than pressing the lock button peeking out of his pants.

_Outta10 [22:05]: Where are you_   
_Outta10 [22:07]: I lost the signal of the target. I’m guessing you succeeded?_   
_Outta10 [22:15]: you know you could aNSWER ME FOR ONCe instead of being brooding_   
_Outta10 [22:21]: fine just DIE for all I care_

“Your usual?” Sicheng smiles around the cup he’s cleaning, glass brought up to eye level so he could catch any missed water spots. He still doesn’t quite trust Chenle to do his job properly.

Taeyong nods, elbow up on the bar. Sicheng fills his establishment with nice, plush wooden armchairs and Taeyong has a particular favorite in the back. He glances, it’s still empty, but he feels a heart-beating sense of urgency to get there before someone else does.

“You know I can bring you your drink,” Sicheng hums, already starting to pour fluorescent pink liquid into a metal mixer.

“Can you not do that mind reading thing right now? It always trips me up.”

“I’m just saying. I don’t need telepathy to see the way you’re anxiously eyeing that chair in the back.” Taeyong lets out an indignant squawk and Sicheng laughs at his expense. “I’m trying to be nice to you. You work so hard for us so why won’t you let me?”

“Because…” Because he’s never liked other people doing things for him, even on his heaviest, most downtrodden days. Well… maybe once he did, but that seemed to push his best friend away. So never again. Taeyong huffs. “I get to talk to you if I stand here.”

“You’re _so_ sweet. I see right through your bullshit.” The once pink liquid turns a comforting lavender color when it hits the martini glass and then settles into a sky blue. Sicheng garnishes it with two cherries before he hands it over.

“You always know how to make the best stuff.” Taeyong grins as he takes a sip. The liquid is too sweet for most people but to Taeyong it’s the best. He’s never had a taste for the bitterness of alcohol, no matter how it’s attempted to be masked. Instead he requests the brightest, most sugary drink that Sicheng’s bartender magic (not to be confused with his actual telepathic abilities) can manage.

“I swear you’re the only one who comes to a bar wanting to _get_ sober.”

“I don’t want to _get_ sober. I’m never _not_ sober,” Taeyong corrects after another sip. Beyond the taste, alcohol makes him antsy. He has no tolerance and gets too loose lipped and emotional too quickly. The last time Ten had taken him here for “actual adult beverages” Taeyong ended up in a puddle at Sicheng’s feet sobbing over the aforementioned friend he lost while still in school. Johnny had to haul him out over his shoulder to get him to leave and honestly the only miracle was that he didn’t throw up on the way home. It also affects his abilities too much. Taeyong can naturally read the emotions in a room, drinking enhances that tenfold. He doesn’t need to cloud his head with more unneeded thoughts so he sticks to his cotton candy faux-tinis and accepts the ridicule for it.

“Don’t look now,” Sicheng cuts in, topic welcomingly changed. “I think someone’s eyeing your seat.”

“Like hell they—Okay I’ll catch you before I leave. Sorry!” Taeyong snatches his glass and slides into the chair before any other onlookers have the chance to consider.

His favorite thing about Sicheng’s bar is how quiet it can be even at peak hours. There’s magic involved, Taeyong knows. Thin, invisible walls built around the tables to trap noise in. It’s great for personal meetings, even better for the raids that sweep through the underground at any given moment. Taeyong takes the opportunity to revel in the quiet—in the only times that his mind can 100% shut down. But it unsettles him too because when he’s always connected it’s hard to find comfort in complete detachment as well. He can never last too long.

“Hey stranger. You look pained,” Johnny says with a soft laugh, stepping into Taeyong’s personal bubble.

“Ten sent you, didn’t he?” Taeyong replies in lieu of a proper greeting. He grimaces in jest and Johnny laughs, low and booming.

“Sort of. He didn’t _send_ me exactly but he wouldn’t stop fretting and I needed to get out of that apartment before I risked losing my mind.”

“You’re the one who chose to put a ring on it.” Taeyong teases but there’s a smile on his lips.

“And I’ll never regret it, til my dying days,” Johnny grins back. “You’re not usually the ‘bar on a Wednesday’ type. Was the mission hard? It didn’t seem like it took you that long.”

Taeyong shrugs. “ _it_ wasn’t long but the emotional demand was a little more than I planned for. It’s hard to coax spirits out of host bodies when they’re lovestruck or vengeful. This one happened to be both.” He rings his hands together, runs them over his face, then pours half his weight onto elbows now resting on his knees. “Wish we could refine Ten’s systems so they could tell me what kind of mission I need to prepare for but…”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Johnny’s hand falls heavy and sympathetic on Taeyong’s shoulders and he immediately starts to melt, despite finding next to no comfort in Johnny’s words. It’s impossible, but Taeyong knows Johnny means well. He can feel the refreshing jolt of sympathy and hope traveling between them. He tastes lemon on his tongue.

He lets out a longing sigh when the slightly older male takes his hand back, body nearly ready to chase that touch but _no_ Johnny isn’t his for this moment and he isn’t so bad that he needs to make request to him or Ten. He’s just stressed. He takes another sip of his drink.

“Come home,” Johnny offers. “We can order dinner. Or better yet, we can get you ingredients and you can cook your feelings out.”

Taeyong cracks a smile at the invitation. “You know I only like stress _baking_. It doesn’t risk getting too bitter that way.” If his drink is any indication Taeyong has the world’s sweetest of sweet tooths, so when his emotions pour themselves into his food they at least temper his desserts more for a regular person’s tastes, versus when his sadness over salts his soups.

“I don’t think Ten would be opposed to that.”

“It’s a little too soon,” Taeyong swiped open his phone to confirm. Time doesn’t usually drag this long on missions and Taeyong swears it feels like three in the morning. It’s not. It’s actually only 22:45. But that’s late enough to make Taeyong’s excuse valid. “It’s too late to eat a lot of heavy things. I’ll make breakfast in the morning?”

“Alright tomorrow,” Johnny nods. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Please do,” Taeyong pushes a smile onto his lips and sets his phone down again in order to take another sip of his drink.

“Get some rest soon okay? You definitely deserve it.”

“Goodnight Johnny,” Taeyong waves him away and somehow finds himself slumping a little further in his seat. Red hair scrunches between the seat and the back of his head but Taeyong can’t be bothered to fix it, even with the way his spine starts to scream at the misalignment. He shouldn’t be so tired right now and yet something about _this mission_ in particular is not rubbing him the right way. Something about lovestruck stirs unwellness in his stomach. Something familiar…something Taeyong’s fought long and hard to forget.

With a sigh he glances around the bar. It’s pretty packed but considering Sicheng’s precautions it’s the quietest and most unassuming space Taeyong could ask for. Which meant that as he committed to making this purely emotional, very stupid life mistake no one else would be able to clock him for it. That in mind he unlocks his phone and calls Doyoung.

“Hello? Taeyong? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah everything’s fine.”

“So why are you calling me?” There’s something about Doyoung’s voice that’s persistently calm but also always has an edge of _something_ to it. Usually it’s playful sharpness; something that helps make his statements poignant and (seemingly) knowledgeable. But tonight it’s only laced in a worry so palpable Taeyong doesn’t even need to be an empath to sense it.  

“Can I come over?”

Doyoung doesn’t question how late it is, nor does he harass Taeyong for the details of where he’s coming from, what they both have to do the next morning, or how his night had gone. All he says is, “Of course. When do you think you’ll be here?”

Taeyong arrives right at the cusp of the twenty minutes he promised, carrying all the cream cheese bread he could find from the convenience stores along the way as thanks.

“You didn’t have to,” he greets as he opens his apartment door and steps aside for Taeyong to enter and toe his shoes off.

“It’s basically midnight I definitely have to.” He hands the plastic bag of treats over with a tired smile. He doesn’t need to outwardly say _thanks_ for the human to understand. They really seem to get each other on a level unspoken.

They sit in silence for an awkward while, Doyoung picking at pieces of bread to occupy the time until Taeyong feels ready to speak. He hadn’t really thought this through. He had a habit of running when things felt uncomfortable-- first to Yuta’s arms, then to Johnny and Ten’s bed, now, fascinated by something new, he sits across from Doyoung. But he didn’t think this through. He can’t ask of Doyoung the vices he’s pursued before. He doesn’t want to, either.

“Sorry,” he offers once Doyoung’s concern becomes too palpable and leaves an aftertaste of orange rinds uncomfortable in his mouth. “I thought I knew what I was doing when I asked to come over but it turns out I’m apparently just impulsive at midnight. I can get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to,” Doyoung replies while Taeyong’s halfway from getting out of his chair. “I’m not bothered or anything but I’d like to know you’re okay. Why don’t we talk? Tell me about your night?”

Oh. Dangerous. Sort of...  Disclosing mission information to a near stranger, a _human_ , when he hardly confined in others who were like him. But when he said, “work,” that didn’t feel right either.

“Another mission.” _‘That answer is the same as “work.” Doyoung basically knows what you’re doing, stupid._ “A...rougher one. More emotionally demanding.”

“Ah. Must be hard then when you’re pretty much a ball of emotions wrapped around a skeleton.”

“Rude. I am not,” Taeyong’s nose twitches, indignant.

Doyoung raises a brow to challenge that.

“Fine.. Whatever… It was just hard and I feel tired.”

“Sometimes I think my job is emotionally taxing, you know? When my viewpoints are so different from those in office and it’s a constant battle of outwitting, outselling, out-everything an opponent while not selling out. But what you do… I can’t imagine.”

“I don’t think I’d ever compare myself to a politician,” he laughs dryly.

“I’m not saying we’re similar,” Doyoung corrects. “Just that I respect the effort your work requires and that you’re able to do it almost every day.”

Taeyong goes from defensive to sheepish is no time flat and all but deflates in the chair when he says, “Oh. Thanks.” 

Doyoung smiles back, tears off a piece of his bread and hands it to Taeyong. “Of course.” He gets up out of his chair and ruffles Taeyong’s reddish, fading slowly to orange, hair. “I bet you haven’t eaten anything either right? I’ll make you something.”

Taeyong shifts around and to his feet but Doyoung is quick to push him back into place. “Don’t fight me on this. You look like the type who skips meals and stays awake when stressed and I can almost guarantee that counters your old man sensibilities.”

“What the heck? I’m not an old man!”

Doyoung gives Taeyong a once over and suddenly he feels stilled by the other’s gaze. Maybe it’s that long, languid hold Doyoung’s eyes have. Maybe it’s really because he wants to prove he’s anything _but_ an old man.

“You’re definitely a grandpa. Deep down. I see it. So sit down before you throw your back out.”

Taeyong grumbles under his breath as he follows Doyoung to the kitchen and takes another seat at the counter. “I’m only like two years older than you I can’t believe this…”

Doyoung has stacked his kitchen with more essentials since Taeyong’s first, conscious, visit a few weeks ago. He can make much more than pancakes now-- though not _that_ much. Taeyong decides he needs to come over with a full bag of groceries, protein and veggies included, and make the other a proper, not delivery meal. Maybe for his birthday...whenever that is.

Doyoung slips a bowl of steamed egg and some side dishes in front of Taeyong and nudges him with the back of his knife. “Eat.”

“Are you always so pushy?”

“Only with people I like,” Doyoung smirks. The words shoot Taeyong through the heart and he nearly chokes on the hot egg.

“Mmmm…” He stuffs some more seaweed between his lips. Like. Like is an easy, simple, rather meaningless word and it’s presumptuous of Taeyong to think there’s any meaning behind it. But it’s not the word so much as the look in Doyoung’s eyes and on his lips that has Taeyong’s cheeks flushed pink.

“See, it works. You’re eating.” Triumphant, Doyoung fishes his own pair of chopsticks from a drawer and takes a seat next to Taeyong. While Taeyong doesn’t mind sharing, he doesn’t take the same pleasure in the way the younger keeps knocking food from his grasp as if they’re competing.

“You’re insufferable,” He groans, stabbing the fish skin Doyoung is about to pick up with his chopsticks and glaring up.

“That’s why you like me too, right?” Doyoung’s chin rests in his palm and his eyes have creased with this new, more devious smile.

They’ve polished off everything by the time 2AM crawls slowly across the digital clock on the counter. Taeyong’s finally feeling calmed--if not a little sluggish. He’s full of good food and worn out from playful company. He looks up from the long, apologetic message just sent to Ten and turns to thank Doyoung but the younger has already slumped against the wall, eyes shut, snoozing gently. “Oh,” Taeyong breaths out with a small chuckle. Carefully getting his footing on the smooth tile floor, Taeyong shuffles over. Doyoung isn’t that heavy when he pulls him into his hold, one arm around his shoulders and the other slipped under his legs, but Taeyong isn’t the type to do any lifting at all so it takes him a bit to make it to the bedroom without dropping him to the ground.

He’s nearly to the bed, victory in sight and sweat on his brow, when he’s brought to pause. A sweet feeling floods through his veins. It’s syrupy but not heavy, and tinged on the ends with something tart like raspberries. Taeyong can’t fully process this feeling, foreign yet so familiar, and though he’s finally gotten Doyoung onto his mattress he lingers around him. He has to sort this out. As he thinks Doyoung wraps a hand around Taeyong’s thin wrist and mutters something he can’t quite make out. Taeyong leans closer. He’s felt this before. When Ten locks eyes onto Johnny from across the room, the older male busy crafting charms as easy as breathing. He’s felt this before but not as strongly. This light, sugary feeling. This…

Love.

Taeyong quickly peels himself away, looking between his upturned palms and Doyoung’s sleeping form. He feels...embarrassed. Emotions run strongest when tied to sleep--whether resting or deprived. The deepest insight to a person’s heart. Taeyong can’t shake the feeling that he’s violated Doyoung’s trust. He’s taken a peek into something that wasn’t meant for him and he can’t even apologize for it properly now. He _could_ wake Doyoung up but…. He’s too scared.

He scuttles out of the room, quickly does the dishes because the last thing he’s going to do is pry into Doyoung’s private life and then leave him with food stuck to his bowls, then bolts back home without a second thought.

His heart pounds in his chest when he clicks his own bedroom door closed. Doyoung...in love. Love is a very specific feeling and Taeyong is sure he isn’t misunderstanding the raspberry swirl resting on his palate. He knows this. He knows emotions. He _is_ emotion.

But it’s not Doyoung’s emotions that’s tripping him up, Taeyong comes to realize after he’s harped too long over what happened in the shower. No. No it’s...his own hurt, pricking at the end of his heart and behind his eyes. Love isn’t the new feeling; this is.

Taeyong wakes hardly an hour after he let his head fell to the pillow, phone buzzing incessantly by his side. He tried to blink the heaviest bits of sleep from his eyes and when that failed wiped one open while the other hand grabbed for his phone. Who in Gods’ names was calling him so early in the morning? “What?” He bit out in frustration, too tired to mask it.

“You’re okay,” Doyoung’s exasperated voice spilled through the receiver. “Okay. Thank goodness.”

“Huh? I--”

“I woke up and you weren’t here and I started to panic that something had happened. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep, I’m sorry. What a bad host this makes me…”

“Wait. No-- Sorry...Doyoung it’s okay. I just didn’t want to wake you so I left without saying anything.”

“I didn’t fall asleep in my bed while you were still here…” It starts as a statement until Doyoung’s voice loses its confidence. “Right…?”

“No, uh, I...helped. You get there.”

Silence stretches across the call and sits unwell in Taeyong’s stomach. He can’t read emotions he’s this many miles away from which is new to Taeyong since he, one, can feel Doyoung’s heart viscerally or, two, is confident in his ability to read one’s intentions through text message.

“Doyoung?”

“Sorry. Just thinking of what I can offer to make it up to you. Not only did you leave on your own at asscrack in the morning but I made you carry me to bed. That’s two strikes in one night.”

“You don’t have to,” He replies with a shaky laugh. “It’s okay. I’m home safely, you were tired. You took me in at midnight. I think we can call it even.” He’s trying his hardest to seem calm but emotions run strongest when tied to sleep and Taeyong is downright exhausted. He can’t stop thinking and couldn’t brush the raspberry away before bed.

“Okay, I’ve got it.” Doyoung says in that “I clearly wasn’t listening to you,” stubborn way of his.

“Yeah?” Taeyong asks, feigned curiosity barely peeking through his want to get this call over with.

“This Friday, I’m taking you on a date.”

“Ah-...I’m sorry, _what_?”

“You heard me. Friday, 8PM, will you go on a date with me Taeyong?”

“Yes?” Oh. That slipped out. Taeyong’s hand clasps over his lips. “Wait I mean…”

“Yes? Okay, great. I’ll let you get some rest Taeyong. See you soon.”

The phone clicks quiet before Taeyong has the time to gather the pieces of _date_ and _love_ and _Doyoung_ all together again.

\- - -

A sharp whistle cuts through the music blaring from Taeyong’s phone and he nearly jumps. He turns, hand clutching his chest, sharp eyes narrowing. “Can you not?”

Ten chuckles as his exasperated tone. “You look nice. Where ya going?”

“Uh...Sicheng’s?”

“You wouldn’t even wear pants to Sicheng’s if you weren’t such a weirdo about exposing your body.” Ten eyes Taeyong’s dark jeans and long sleeve button down shirt and quirks a brow to prove his point. “For someone who likes to fuck around a lot you’re really dedicated to hiding your knees”

“Can you _not_?!” Taeyong repeats, five seconds away from throwing something (everything) and Ten. “Let’s see how you like it when I never suck you off again.”

Ten gasps, “You wouldn’t dare!” and then starts laughing again. Stepping into the room he perches himself onto the corner of Taeyong’s bed. “You’re playing music while getting ready. We all know that means _something_ is up. Tell me~”

“Uh…” He glances over as his phone buzzes. Checkmate. Ten’s got him. And the fact that he feigns innocent even still, despite the gleam in his eye, just makes Taeyong’s stomach twist more.

“Okay okay I have a date.”

“A date!” Ten repeats, mirthful and giddy and, if Taeyong senses correctly, a little jealous. “Lee Taeyong, going on a _date_! Who’s the lucky man?”

“Who do you think?” Defeated, Taeyong swipes his message notification away and starts back on his unfinished eyeliner.

"I can't tell if I wanna clap you on the back or smack you upside the head," Ten muses, opting instead to put his hand through his own silver hair. His eyes are transfixed on Taeyong and he _hates_ it; hates the way Ten's circuitry gaze makes it seem like he's analyzing Taeyong, breaking him down into byte sized chunks, gleaning all the correct answers from his own, personal Taeyong wiki.

"Do both?" Taeyong offers with a tense laugh.

"Just might," but there's no humor in Ten's voice this time. "Taeyong I think you're making a mistake."

"I know. You tell me that every day."

"No. I think you're making a real, really bad, mistake." He crosses the room and takes Taeyong's hands in his own, bringing them both to sit on Taeyong's small bed. Ten feels like cold tension and pricks of anxiousness. Worst of all there's warmed _sympathy_ underlining the other emotions; an unspoken _"I’m sorry for this"_. Taeyong feels sick in anticipation. He takes his hands away.

"Even if he's the kindest human on the planet this is going to come to an end eventually isn't it? He's a politician. Once he makes it, do you think he'll have room for you? It'll be too risky."

_‘You don't know that.’_  But Taeyong figures he really doesn't know for sure either. "You're right," he says instead after a moment's pause. Ten wasn't expecting that. "But I can either enjoy it while it lasts or give up before it begins and we've already started so," he leaves it at that. Then, getting up to grab his things, adds, "I can't keep inserting myself into your relationship forever. I want to find my own, at least for a bit." He feels the sting that leaves in Ten's heart and the understanding that's trying to cushion the blow. Taeyong tries to offer a smile. "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere."

And Ten tries to smile back in that way that doesn’t meet his eyes. "I know... I just... want you safe. And if you wanted to ‘insert yourself in our relationship forever’ as you put it you know Johnny and I wouldn't complain." Before Taeyong can worsen the pain in his chest Ten brushes past him and out the room. "Enjoy your date~" he calls.

\- - -

8PM. Taeyong keeps checking the clock on his phone. He’s already making his way to Doyoung’s, a 25 minute walk, even though he’s a good 40 minutes away from their meeting time. It’s anxious energy that’s driving his feet forward despite the need to _slow down_ and not seem like a weirdo. Taeyong’s never been good at that so...why start now?

He has stood on this doorstep so many times but tonight feels far different. Even if logic is telling him there’s no different between a date and the time they’d spent before he just can’t shake away the butterflies. He’d like to blame it on the concern of going out in public--Taeyong rarely even ate out, let along lingered in the eyes of the upperworld and the only places he’d consider dropping by were for no longer than an hour at most, and generally filled with his community. He wouldn’t dare risk their well-being for a date with Doyoung. But still, he knows that’s not the source of his anxiousness. He’s selfish. He cares more about himself and his feelings and not fucking this up right now.

He can still feel the sweet tartness of love underneath Doyoung’s skin, even when his finger’s are only touching the cold call button in his apartment lobby.

“You’re early,” He grins when he opens the door.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“None at all,” Doyoung pushes the door open and steps aside. “Just hope you don’t mind waiting a minute.”

The scent of kimchi and marinating fish skin hits Taeyong first and he looks at Doyoung with a tilt of his head. The other just smiles. Then Taeyong starts to notice the dim lighting, the faint, sanitized feeling of artificial cleaners, and the sound of...oh Gods, was that music? “What is this?”

“Our date!” Doyoung beams back but the look in his eyes is definitely giving Taeyong shit for not piecing it together.

Slowly he steps out of his shoes and pulls away his jacket. “I thought we were going somewhere?”

“Is that what you wanted? I figured this was safer...I can change our plans if--”

“No!” Taeyong clears his throat, ears tinting red in embarrassment at that quick outburst. “Sorry, I just mean this is perfect. I don’t really want to be out at a restaurant or anything. I just…” There’s no good way to say _“I didn’t think you’d be so thoughtful”_ so Taeyong leaves it as is.

Coming closer, he sees a spread of banchan, two bowls of rice, and a plate of washed lettuce leaves surrounding a small personal grill. “What the hell,” he breathes out, unable to keep a grin from settling over his lips as he turns left, then right when Doyoung scuttles past him back into the kitchen. Two plates balance on each palm when he’s back around again; samgyupsal on one and marinated galbi on the other. “You really don’t know how to strike a balance do you?” Taeyong smirks, gazing between the two protein options.

“Variety is the spice of life.”

Speaking of, Taeyong’s about to join him in the kitchen to grab and plate their sauces but Doyoung stops him immediately. “Not tonight. Not on our date. And no dishes tonight either.”

“Is this date or a punishment....” Taeyong begrudgingly takes his usual seat at Doyoung’s counter instead.

“Both?” Doyoung beams and soon has the counter set in full and the burner beneath the grill alight. He takes his place next to Taeyong and starts to add garlic and kimchi to the heat. Taeyong inhales deeply to take in the scent, aromatic and strong and just enough to drown out the nervousness he feels emanating off of Doyoung. Strange. They’ve more or less been like this before. But what Doyoung’s feeling can rival the way Taeyong’s own heart is thudding in his chest. He thanks many Gods that Doyoung can’t sense it like he can.

While Taeyong is lost in thought Doyoung starts piling meat in the open spaces and grins in anticipation of their dinner. “I’ve never used this before,” he says as small talk. “I’m excited to give it a go.”

“I haven’t had meat like this I think since I was in school.” Taeyong picked the tongs up gingerly from Doyoung’s hold to unstick and move it around. “Sometimes I’ll get it for us to cook up at home but money’s too tight for a grill and we obviously don’t go out much.”

Doyoung glances up and cocks a brow.  “Weird question for you.”

“Hm?” Taeyong doesn’t match his gaze, swallowing subtly to keep his cool. He didn’t think what he said was _that_ weird to prompt a weird question. Super powers aside, did that many people eat meat like this on a regular basis?

“How do you make money doing with what you do? If it’s all underground who pays you?”

Oh. Huh. Taeyong really hadn’t explained that. Somehow he feels both relieved and worried that that’s Doyoung’s question. “Gonna rat me out to your government?” Taeyong hides behind a smirk with a raised brow. Doyoung smacks his shoulder.

“Okay. Okay. I do some odd jobs every now and then but...Johnny, the priest, his family is often paid for ‘demon exterminations’ by...you know some upper echelon people. So they just funnel that money our way and make their living doing charms and accepting donations at the temple.”

“Upper echelon people,” Doyoung repeats with obvious disgust in his voice, picking up small, sizzling piece at the edge of the grill and popping it between his lips. “I feel I probably know who you’re talking about.”

Taeyong just shrugs and starts gathering the cooked meat on their plates. “I don’t even know who they are. I just enjoy the fuck you to them that we’re helping the beings they want to execute. No offense.”

“None taken. I have a lot of fuck yous I want to send their way too.”

Taeyong grins and sets the tongs down. “That’s why I keep you around Kim Doyoung.” He grabs a lettuce leaf and starts to piece together bean sprouts, radish, meat, and some of the grilled kimchi. “That, and this,” he adds, stuffing the wrap between his lips.

“I was about to say, I’m pretty sure the fact that I take care of you is more than enough to keep you. The rest of it--my politics, my striking good looks-- is bonus.”

Taeyong almost chokes at _striking good looks_ but holds himself together last second.

“It’s alright,” He tries to play off coolly. “Though to be honest I don’t mind taking care of my partner if it makes their lives easier.”

“Are you saying your dream job is a housewife?”

“Yeah and what of it?” Taeyong shoots back, voice low, expression deadpanned except for the slight pout to his bottom lip. Ten teases him about it too. Taeyong loves to cook and clean and if he could do that full time he would in a heartbeat. This _everyday savior of the people_ stuff got really tired really fast.

Doyoung rests his elbow on the table, cheek against his closed fist and lets out a long hum.

“What?”

He hums again, lips quirking in a smirk.

“ _What?!”_

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You can’t read my mind. You don’t know if I’m lying or not.”

Violating every single one of his sensibilities, Taeyong takes a piece of cooled kimchi between this fingered and flings it over the counter. Doyoung laughs in return. And while Taeyong is licking the spiciness from his thumb Doyoung relents and says, “Just thinking about how cute you’d look in a good apron.”

“I’ll throw more of this kimchi at you if you’re not careful,” An empty threat. He’s red in his cheeks and ears but he hates getting his hands dirty or wasting food so he wouldn’t dare. Doyoung seems to know this and looks the most smug Taeyong has ever seen. Oh Gods he hates this.

Just kidding. He’s loving every second.

They share more banter between them as they continue to cook and truthfully Taeyong can’t quite recall every quip that’s made but it doesn’t matter. There’s something in the way Doyoung’s eyes glisten at every pinpointed jab he gets in; the way all his energy focuses in on Taeyong as if he’s the only thing that matters in the space around them-- in the whole world even. Somewhere deep in Taeyong’s core lies a hope _less_ romantic who is hope _ful_ that is the case.

Maybe an hour later the lingering gristle and fat are replaced with bowls of strawberry and rose flavored ice creams. _“You really went all out,”_ Taeyong wants to say but he can’t muscle any more teasing out of himself. He just feels grateful. And a weird mix of content and loving both internally and in the air between them. Feelings that link together like puzzle pieces and settle comfortably into place. He spoons a small amount of ice cream onto his tongue and just...revels in it. This weird and seemingly mutual sensation that only he can key into tangibly. But the way Doyoung’s smiling over to him...Taeyong’s sure he can feel it too in his own weird, human way.

“This wasn’t much different than most of the times I’ve come over,” he hums, having succeeded in strong arming Doyoung into letting him do the dishes.

“It was _almost_ different until you picked up all the plates and threatened to drop them if I didn’t let you clean…”

Taeyong chuckles. “And I guess we ate a little bit better than usual. An actual meal for once and not just dessert and side dishes.”

“You say that like before has been a bad thing.”

“Not a _bad_ thing. Just makes this different.” And yet feels totally the same, despite this being their “date.” That’s okay right? A sign of their compatibility and not that they’re just continuing to act as friends while Doyoung burns raspberry hot for--

A hand falls next to him on the counter. Then a second and _oh_ Taeyong seems to be sandwiched by Doyoung’s arms. But they’re not touching. Taeyong is grateful Doyoung remembers his hypersensitivity to prolonged contact, though this space between them leaves room for heightened anticipation and honestly Taeyong isn’t quite sure which is worse.

“Can I help you?” His voice squeaks out because, fuck, Taeyong apparently doesn’t not know how to keep his cool when he really needs to.

He starts to turn, trying to look back, only to discover Doyoung’s face is dangerously close to his own. The squeak that escapes his throat is probably the most embarrassing sound he’s made in his life. He would melt right here if he could. He probably should try anyway.

Doyoung’s lips split into a bright grin and he backs off almost as quickly as he came forward, one arm wrapped around his stomach. Laughter pings off the marble counter and metal refrigerator, unabashed and loud and picks at Taeyong until he throws the rubber gloves down down in surrender and turns to face the other properly.

“What?”

“You are,” Doyoung starts, running a knuckle against his eye. Is he crying?! Taeyong is mortified. “The cutest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m-- what?”

“Oh shut up. You heard me,” Doyoung steps close again, returns his hands to the counter so Taeyong is trapped yet again. “I think you’re cute. I wanted to ask you for a kiss.”

“A-...” Taeyong freezes. Oof. His cheeks are on fire and his stomach does one flip. Why is he so embarrassed? He’s acting like an underclassman about to give up his kissing virginity-- and _he’s_ the older one between them. The older one who has done so many other things so many other times!

Doyoung reads all the signs the wrong way--though Taeyong can’t fully blame him. Not with the way he’s freezed up, wide eyed and stammering. The human starts to back off. “Sorry. Too soon?” He starts backpedaling, “You were saying that this isn’t really different than our other times together so I thought that’d mean this was more like our third or fourth date and you’re comfortable enough with me. But I don’t have to--”

A hand suddenly at the back of his neck stops Doyoung’s rambling tirade and Taeyong nearly pulls them together again. He stops, however, because they both haven’t fully given their agreements. “I’d like to kiss you,” he says softly, lips close enough to nearly be brushing.

“...Then kiss me.”

So he does. Taeyong’s eyes slip shut the second they come together. He lets his head tilt just a touch to the side. The hand on Doyoung’s neck wraps fully around his shoulder to tug him closer. The hands against the counter shift to wrap around Taeyong’s waist. There is maybe three inches of marble digging into Taeyong’s back in an effort to hold them upright, but he’s not bothered. He’s too focused on kissing, and kissing, and _being kissed_ by Doyoung to think about silly things like self preservation.

Doyoung keys in eventually though, uses his hold around Taeyong’s slim waist to pull them from the counter and a little bit more upright. They’re against the refrigerator now. Close enough.

Kissing Doyoung is fascinating. Taeyong doesn’t even fully realize it until they’re broken off of one another and inhaling sharply for breath. There was nothing in that moment but lips and tongue and teeth and heat being shared between their bodies. Nothing, because both of their heads were spinning in the sensation of being wrapped up in one another that no emotion or otherwise had its chance to slip beneath Taeyong’s skin. Nothing like the feelings Taeyong is now soaking up like a sponge, head spinning and defenses down which means he isn’t able to dam himself off from the flood. He exhales through berry powders and tepid heat when he looks back up at Doyoung. _‘So this is what it’s like…’_

“Everything okay?” Doyoung asks in the sweetest tone with an impossibly sweeter smile. He brings his hand around to push Taeyong’s hair from his face. “Please don’t tell me I’m a bad kisser. I think I’ll die.”

Taeyong hums. “I think I need one more just to really make sure. You know, for science.”

Rather than tease him for a comment they both probably made back in high school, Doyoung leans in and grants him his wish-- all the more reason Taeyong reasons he should keep him.

“So?” He’s hardly pulled away and this time their lips are, in fact, brushing as he speaks.

“Pretty good,” A nod, “I think I’d like a few more.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's theme continues to be Mrs. Green Apple's "WanteD! WanteD!" -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbISczErpKY
> 
> It'll probably pop up a lot in this fic, oops!

The bag at his side rustles with his steps. The air is growing warmer by the day though Taeyong still likes to tuck himself into jean jackets and long sleeve shirts. Ten’s right, for someone who likes to fuck a lot he is really dedicated to hiding his knees. And elbows for that matter. He takes a right turn at the cluster of blooming hibiscus shrubs and trails a few steps from the path until he’s caught beneath a familiar grove of trees. Here he kneels, setting down vine-plucked grapes, plump olives, and drizzles over it all with honey. Back to the place where they first met. Taeyong has been coming here more often recently especially since Doyoung propositioned him for a date and he said yes. It’s the only place he can think to pay tribute to the God of Slowness for bringing them together. He steps back to watch the tiny fruits glow and vanish, leaving only honey glazed grass in its wake, and smiles. He and the God don’t seem to be on bad terms, either. Just another thing to be grateful for.

Slowness. Taeyong lingers on the concept. Taking things slow (like months of visits before their first date), treading carefully (into unknown territory), taking time to breathe (because he’s never given himself the opportunity before). He’s been trying to work it into his everyday life.

Slow and steady steps, getting to the points and the places he wants to be at.

Slow a steady nights, talking in Doyoung’s apartment about everything and nothing and then some.

Slow and steady touches, until Taeyong is sandwiched between Doyoung’s body and his mattress and it dawns on him: he hasn’t done anything like this, except with his two roommates, in a long time. And Doyoung feels so...different. He’s neither as slender as Ten nor as firm as Johnny but resides in a pleasant middle ground of latent muscles formed with slight amounts of flexing. He lets his voice out in gasped puffs of air and soft moans, not too loud but not silent at all. His lips aren’t smooth honey or clean cotton but a refreshing strawberry that reminds Taeyong of their first meeting. Who would’ve thought...

Doyoung likes to nibble at Taeyong’s edges--the shell of his ear, the jut of his collarbone. He likes to smooth his hands over the lengths of his sides and down his thighs, like his fingers are drinking in details that his eyes can’t catch. He works slow and a deliberate, a jarring contrast to Taeyong’s usual state of hurriedness, even as he tries to train himself to be better. Take it slower. It’s just still a trait born out of necessity rather than anything else; the inability to linger too long for fear of drawing too much from his partner. But Doyoung doesn’t pose that familiar threat. Taeyong can touch him for as long as he wants and while he’ll feel feelings foreign to his own he can remain like this without worry. There’s nothing to short circuit and no one to drain. He won’t be tainted. Not here.

In turn, Taeyong likes to draw Doyoung in all at once. Be it his mouth or his hips, he’ll take everything Doyoung wants to give and give everything Doyoung wants to get. Tonight Taeyong bounces in his lap, legs bracketing his hips and arms tugging to him close. This is their first “new position” and Taeyong is absolutely in love with it. Like this, Doyoung can snake his arms around Taeyong’s waist and hug him tight, letting his tongue drag long lines over the divots in his collar and up his neck until he’s primed to suck bruises behind his ear. Taeyong moans loudly because it’s the only thing he can think to do--other than crashing his hips down in a rhythm that matches the way Doyoung’s lift. 

He can’t quite remember what brought them here. Their first date turned into many more nights of coming together, not unlike their times before Doyoung asked him out, but now with the added enjoyment of stolen kisses and lingering touches. Taeyong would slip inside Doyoung’s apartment far too frequently on nights they both had work and would leave towards the crack of dawn kissed silly and dazed. 

He knows, however, that he was the first to ask for sex. 

He’d asked for that night. He’d come prepared with condoms in his back pocket. He’d kissed Doyoung up against the wall of his living room and asked in hushed tones, “Do you want to...tonight?” And when Doyoung had said yes he lost the cool edge, melting into a puddle of eager excitement and slight disbelief. There was no reason...it wasn’t like they could keep their hands off of each other recently, but Taeyong has always, and will probably always be, a ball of anxious and uncertain energy. 

However many night later, dark eyes blink down to the man beneath him now and he slows the grind of his hips to an achingly drawn out pace. His fingers push the sweat slick hair back so he can make out the crease in Doyougn’s brow, eyes screwed shut in a perfect balance of focus and pleasure. Taeyong rolls his hips again to see that furrow deepen and smirks. Gods and Goddesses above Doyoung is beautiful. He wants to kiss him again, but can only manage to bring his lips to his forehead when Doyoung rams his hips upward at double the speed. He peels away hardly a second later, head tossed back so he can call the other’s name out in a gasp. One slight adjustment beneath him, one good roll of his hips down and back, and Taeyong is coming between their bodies in streams of white ribbons. With the way he tightens and shivers around him, Doyoung can only make it a brief moment longer. 

Eventually Taeyong untangles himself from Doyoung and flops back against the pillows with a soft thud, eyes half-lidded in bliss. Their chests are sticky in the aftermath of their orgasms but for now Taeyong can’t be bothered by that. Humans are so...nice, he’s decided after these few fantastic times with Doyoung. They’re bristling with nothing but the emotions of the moment and if Taeyong could be filled with only Doyoung’s warm admiration, and speckles of hot lust, until the end of time he’d happily take it. He’s never had problems with his other partners; but he can’t walk away from Ten without a certain buzzing around his electronics and Johnny… well… he wasn’t going to think about Johnny right now; he never means harm. Doyoung just leaves him feeling safe, honest, and warm; something he’s never imagined coming from a human before. It’s nice not to have new powers to shake away.

Still vibrating from aftershock, Doyoung snakes his arms back around Taeyong’s waist and nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck. He matches Taeyong’s lavender scent with his own chamomile, breath falling into a slow and steady rhythm that could easily lull both of them to sleep.

“Oh,” He says softly after a moment. “Is this too much? I don’t want to overwhelm you or anything.”

Taeyong shakes his head, shifting to return Doyoung’s hold with thin arms wrapped around a thin waist. He presses his face into Doyoung’s broad chest. If he could find the words he’d explain it-- how simple Doyoung’s emotions feel beneath his skin. How welcoming and warm. How they temper Taeyong’s general anxieties and play to his need for contact. How it chases away his numbness without overwhelming him with power he can’t control. Instead he replies, “Please don’t let go.” 

A smile settles on Doyoung’s lips. “Never.” 

Taeyong finds the familiar hint of raspberries on his tongue again.

- - -

He’s outright humming when he keys into the automatic lock and lets himself into the apartment, satiated and practically shining; for once without a care in the world on his shoulders.

“Johnny  _ please _ ! It’s  _ me _ .” 

Ah… at least he knows it could only last for so long.

The sounds coming from Ten and Johnny’s room are too active to be rustling but not loud enough to exactly indicate struggle. Not until he hears something crash against the wall closest to the side of the apartment where Taeyong is hurriedly toeing off his boots. He yanks the door open, grateful that the two no longer lock it during these times, and slips in before either becomes wiser to his presence.

“How long has it been?” Taeyong asks a very frazzled Ten.

He jolts but is quick not to question. “Uh. Uhm. Fuck, I don’t know man. Maybe 25 minutes?”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Is now  _ really _ the time Taeyong?!”

No. It isn’t. Taeyong would apologize, but it isn’t time for that either. A shriek tears itself from Johnny’s cracked and bleeding, yet definition-less, lips just before Taeyong can clasp his beastly large wrists between his own hands. He holds fast, trying to focus on himself, on Johnny, his energy, their energy now shared between the palms of Taeyong’s hands. He notices a torn talisman fluttering on Johnny’s pitch black shoulder. Ten tried… Ten always really tries his hardest.

“Can you get that?” Taeyong asks with a grunt. Johnny took the moment of distraction to try to break free and now Taeyong has to straddle his waist to keep him still. 

Ten blinks before spotting his failure and quickly swipes the talisman away. A charm to prevent foreign influence in Johnny’s body. It’d be nice if he wasn’t already tainted to his core. Without it though, the current of fiery energy starts to flood from Johnny’s body and into Taeyong’s own.

But Taeyong is bucked off Johnny’s waist before he can finish, hits the bedroom wall with a thud, and decides that he’s grateful he was at least able to land on the bed. His bones throb beneath his skin when he shifts onto his knees. Ten is crying something like  _ “Please stop!” _ into the air but Taeyong can hardly make it out through his blinding pain. And if he can’t process it there’s no way in hell Johnny can. 

Johnny lunges first but Taeyong uses his moment of in-air instability to tackle him back to the ground. Their bodies fall with a force strong enough that it’s knocked the wind from Johnny’s lungs and grants Taeyong the moment to blindly grab for his wrist and his throat. The room quakes around them, framed photos and jewelry case’s falling from their place, spilling and splattering across the wood floor. Taeyong sits back hard and squeezes the beast’s throat as soon as he feels Johnny try to struggle again. It kills him to use such force, but he keeps his chokehold until Johnny’s...well, Johnny-ness starts to stir and flow between them, letting Taeyong finally, unfortunately, taste the fear-stricken panic that overwhelms him upon his turning and leaves him motionless in the curse’s wake. The empath used to take comfort in noting these emotions early on despite Johnny’s beast-like form. Nowadays...it’s harder to find, and harder still to draw out until he’s shrinking back to proper Johnny size and his skin no longer like burnt charcoal. 

(He hasn’t told Ten this yet.)

Only then does Taeyong get off of him, turning away to avoid the writhing of Johnny’s now human body, the gasps for air coming from his lips. He shakes his hands out a few times, feeling grimey and singed from fingertips to palm. Smoke emits off his skin and he can already feel the blisters forming. They’ll settle soon, Taeyong’s body can host neither the curse nor the flames it morphs Johnny’s blood into, and he doesn’t have to worry about his appearance charring to a crisp anytime soon, but for now his skin is tender and bubbly and he hates it. 

Ten soon has water for both of them and Taeyong graciously accepts his cup when he’s given it first. The youngest between them settles on the floor, Johnny’s head pulled into his lap after. The way he brings water to his lips is gentle, like Johnny is made of cloud smoke and rice paper, and not as though he, in his monstrous size, was just tearing their bedroom to shreds-- again. 

Taeyong’s ribs will be sore for some time.

“You don’t have to do this all the time you know...We’ve gotten pretty good at managing the aftermath.”   


Aftermath. As in, once Johnny has ruined himself and everything around him to the point of exhaustion; leaving Ten to shattered glass and ruined pillows. 

“I know. But just because you  _ can _ do it doesn’t mean you should always have to.” Taeyong turns to cough into his sleeve. Blood plumes dark over the fabric and he worries more over how many products it’ll take to get out the stain rather than the state of his health. He likes this jacket.   


Ten grimaces. “I could say the same for you…” A pause, Ten’s eyes downcast to his lover’s now peacefully sleeping face. He runs his fingers through Johnny’s dark hair. “But thanks…”

“Don’t,” Taeyong returns honestly, taking to Ten’s side and placing a hand on his shoulder. “This is hard stuff. It would hurt me to throw you both at it alone when I know I can do something to help.” 

Johnny’s clothes are torn apart, long scratches left between the fraying strings; nails inflicting wounds on himself because, even now, even in his most afflicted state Johnny would  _ never _ hurt Ten. Taeyong sighs. This really isn’t the worst...before Johnny used to draw a lot of blood from everyone involved. But this isn’t as good as it could be, and Taeyong wants desperately to find a better cure. 

“We’re trying to track it but every time we think we have it figured out something else misaligns.” Ten sighs. “We would’ve called you otherwise…”

Taeyong nods. It’s hard for them. Ten’s technophile abilities can access every inch of data and logic on the world wide web. But magic? He doesn’t stand a chance. The source of Johnny’s curse stands in full opposition to everything Ten is, and try as he might, there were still too many missing links to put together. They used to think it was moon phases, though Johnny was certainly no werewolf. But the planets seemed to dictate the stance of the moon and ultimately left everyone at a loss. Maybe if Mars is in retrograde on the Blood Moon eclipse Johnny would snap. But then the next cycle it’d all be fine.

“We’ll get it, one day.” Taeyong assures, despite knowing they collectively had next to no time and very little left in their emotional reserves to wholly tackle such a daunting project. “I know we will.”

Taeyong keeps Ten company, stroking his hair, running his hand down his arm, until Johnny starts to stir. “Let me know if you need anything,” Taeyong whispers before slipping out the door. Whether or not the eldest between them knows of Taeyong’s hand in his recoveries the empath doesn’t know. They decided it best to keep to themselves, to avoid Johnny’s guilt of putting his fiance’s best friend in harm’s way every so often. Taeyong’s grateful for it too; it gives him time to vomit blood in the bathroom while the others are preoccupied. 

- - -

“Are you okay?” 

Ten has this habit of not knocking upon entering new rooms, but he’ll always make his presence known before closing the door again.

“Why?” Taeyong doesn’t like lying needlessly. He finds it taints the air around him, and even if others can’t pick up on those atmospheric shifts as well as he can it’s not a pleasant feeling to distribute either way. That doesn’t keep him from giving non-truths or avoidances in awkward situations, though.

Ten shoots him a no nonsense look. “You know why.”

“I’m...I’ll be okay.” Taeyong shifts upright, brings his previously bent legs to fold under him while straightening his spine. He sets the game he’s playing on his phone aside. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I’m always going to worry about it,” Ten deadpans as best he can. Taeyong admires the way Ten attempts to steel his emotions when around him. Sometimes it's an effort to keep Taeyong from becoming overwhelmed, other times the empath knows it’s to protect himself from things he doesn’t want to address. Ten has always been like a sprite, mischievous and filled to the brim with every feeling under the sun. And when they first met Taeyong couldn’t stand in a room with him for longer than an hour. 

Nights like tonight, though, Taeyong would prefer he just let it all go. 

“I guess you’re right. So then...let yourself worry,” Taeyong urges with a soft smile and an even softer touch to Ten’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay either.” 

Try as he might to keep strong, because Taeyong is the one who just gave so much of himself to help Johnny and Johnny was the one with the fucking  _ curse _ , just the weight of Taeyong’s palm on him sends him crumbling atop the bed. Taeyong hurries to catch Ten’s pieces quickly. 

“Every time Taeyong…” The silver haired male sniffs. “Every time it feels like it’s getting  _ worse _ and I don’t know what to do. I’ve been staying up night after night trying to find  _ something _ but most databases have been wiped even beyond what I can do. You’d think...curses like...they affect their own  _ kind _ Taeyong, why wouldn’t they want to help them? Why would they hate us so much that they’d sacrifice their own? Why-...” He chokes on his words so Taeyong tries to coax them out of him from the base of his spine upward. “Why does Johnny have to suffer because of this…” 

“I...I don’t know Ten.” Taeyong returns, forlorned, defeated. “We can sit here and swear up and down about humans but…”

“It won’t do anything. Nothing will do anything. Johnny’s going to  _ die _ at the hands of his curse and we can’t stop it. We’re going to lose him.  _ I’m _ going to lose him, Taeyong.”

“Ten!” 

His mouth snaps shut, like the volume of Taeyong’s voice slammed duct tape over his lips.

“We’re not giving up. Not on Johnny. Not on  _ you _ .” He pushes his best friend back and tries to lock onto those watering, desperate eyes. God, just looking at him makes Taeyong want to cry even more. It doesn’t help that their touching but, then again, Taeyong would never not offer this comfort to anyone; especially Ten. He lets his own tears mix with those he’s pulled from Ten and fall too. “We’ll make it. I don’t know how but we’ll do it. We’ve made it this far, we just have to keep going.” Ten folds in on himself again to bury his face in Taeyong’s chest. 

They cry together well into the dawn until, “Taeyong…?” his voice, soft around the edges, shattered in the middle, floats weakly in the air. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve missed you…” 

_ ‘We see each other almost every day.’ _ “I’ve missed you too, Ten. I know I’ve been away a lot of nights. I can stay around more if you like.”

But the head pressed against him shifts side to side. “Can…” He pulls back and presses a palm to his swollen eyes, gathering a few lingering tears and streaking remnant eyeliner over his skin. “Can I kiss you? It’s been a while.”

Taeyong offers a sympathetic smile back and shakes his head ‘no.’ When he grabs Ten’s hand in his own his thumb swipes gently over the smudge marks. “We both know that’s not in the rules you and Johnny laid out.” 

“B-but it’s you,” Ten’s lip trembles a bit, “he won’t mind.”

“I know,” They’d been doing this for a long while. Long enough that when Johnny proposed to Ten Taeyong was sure that the two of them had mentally put a ring on Taeyong’s finger too; even if “‘til death do you part” made Taeyong shiver. “But ‘no singular decisions based on extreme emotions,’ right? Ask Johnny when he wakes up tomorrow and if it’s all fine then we can.” He runs his hands up and down Ten’s arms because he can feel him threatening to fall apart again. If one little kiss was really all it would take to make Ten happy again Taeyong would do it in a heartbeat but it’s not. It could never. And he would never violate Johnny’s trust like that. Ten doesn’t want to hurt Johnny either, he’s just in a bad place right now. They’d all understand, once they were all awake and together. 

Instead Taeyong leans in and presses his lips chastely to Ten’s cheek. “If he says yes I’ll kiss you so well it makes him jealous, how does that sound~?”

At least that brings out a giggle. 

“Go back to him, yeah? I think he’ll want to see you when he wakes up.”

“You’re right…” Ten glances to the window where the rays of the early morning sun are starting to crawl their way between the slits of the curtains. “He wakes up so early too...It’s only a matter of moments.” 

Taeyong squeezes his hand and offers him a smile. “I’ll make you both breakfast in a few hours.”

When the door clicks closed Taeyong slumps back into his bed, folding himself around an old fox plushie he’s had for as long as he can remember. He’s more drained now that he from any mission in the last month, but does his best not to think about it. It was for Ten. Taeyong would do anything for Ten. And Johnny. “And you, too,” he says absently to the fox. He used to be the one having outbursts like this, back when university was testing each and every one of his limits. He used to be the one worrying about the what-if’s, when he’d fall apart, when he’d take on too much and not come back from it. His power was nothing like Johnny’s curse; but sometimes it felt like curse adjacent. If Taeyong hadn’t been born this way he thinks he never would’ve asked for it; even if it meant sacrificing knowing his loved ones in the process. It’s selfish but...he can’t help it. When he gets tired like this, when he’s given as much of himself up to others, he can’t help but think of Yuta who always helped get him back. He pokes the faded black fabric of the fox’s nose. “If I could ever find you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka "What happened to Yuta?"
> 
> Yuta's song is Mrs. GREEN APPLE - 「ミスカサズ」(https://youtu.be/JdQcqTzR0WE)

Yuta’s curled around his laptop, back to the bed on the opposite wall. Every time he clicks on a new video his laptop buzzes. It never used to happen before. In fact, only when he he would will electricity through his fingertips would his powers manifest themselves into the air. But now…

Yuta hasn’t told anyone about it. He’s concerned he’s losing control and he doesn’t want to have face really bad consequences for it. He’s trying to will it all together again so he shouldn’t be punished right? That’s why he doesn’t want to risk telling anyone else; he doesn’t want them to overlook his efforts for some sort of ‘greater good.’

The door clicks open and then shut again and a soft thud echos around them with the weight of Taeyong’s book bag hitting the floor. Then there’s a little shuffling and soon enough Yuta feels his blanket pulled away before arms wrap loosely around his waist.

“You have your own bed,” He said flatly but there’s a smile on his lips Taeyong can feel. Or at least there usually is. Yuta’s usually cold on the outset then wraps Taeyong up in his warmth. Everyone says Taeyong’s the tsundere but they’ve never met Yuta; at least not the Yuta Taeyong knows. This time, though, that smile is waning. And Taeyong feels that too but he chalks it up to something similar to what he’s going through right now and doesn’t press on it.

“Yours is nicer,” he mutters into the cloth of Yuta’s shirt.

“They’re the same bed.”

“You’re nicer,” Taeyong whines and it pulls a chuckle to Yuta’s lips; more genuine this time so it sets Taeyong’s earlier concerns regarding his smile at ease. “I just want to recharge.”

“They’re putting you through a lot, huh?”

Taeyong sighs but he doesn’t say anything for a few moments. In that time Yuta spins around in his hold and takes Taeyong into his arms as well, though he’s careful to keep his hands clasped only with each other.

“They’re trying to figure it out. Which I appreciate. I know it’s not what anyone really expects from an empath and it can be really…” He sighs. “Dangerous…” Like taking anything foreign into your body, really. Taeyong needs to learn how to limit the amount of someone else’s powers that can seep in through his touch so he doesn’t overwhelm himself. Or worse…

“You’ll get it,” Yuta says reassuringly. Taeyong’s been hearing it a lot from his professors and mentors and trainers, but somehow when it comes from Yuta, Taeyong’s more inclined to believe it.

“I better,” Taeyong says with a little laugh, finally pulling back so he can look at Yuta; all twinkling eyes and bright, healing smile.

\- - -

Though asked a lot about the nature of their relationship, Taeyong’s always only just considered them friends. They would always hold hands, cuddle, sometimes fall asleep in the same bed. Maybe they’ve kissed on a few drunken nights together. But that never really meant to Taeyong that they’re together; nor did he need that sort of confirmation. Yuta was always there and stable and that was more than enough for him.

But he’d always considered them close friends--at least close enough to share even the deepest, darkest moments of their lives with one another. So when Taeyong returns one night, exhausted and ready to pass out in his best friend’s arms, he’s stunned to see the bed completely and totally...empty.

He takes out his phone first, dialing the other male. Straight to voicemail. “Hey, I didn’t know you were going to be out tonight! Hope you’re having a good time and I’ll see you when you’re back.” That’ll suffice. That’s not desperate since it’s just a check in. Yuta’s a creature of habit so it's strange not to see him up with the sunrise, drinking green tea before class, and back in bed by 9PM. Taeyong doesn’t mind the difference, he just wants to know what his best friend is up to.

Two hours pass and he still hasn’t returned. Taeyong’s received neither call nor text from Yuta. He shoots a message out and when that proves to be in vain tries to contact Taeil or Sicheng. They haven’t seen him either. They thought he was with Taeyong as per usual.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic. Taeyong chants to himself repeatedly. Panic won’t do anything. Panic won’t find your best friend. But none of his efforts seem to be helping him find his best friend either… Even the next day when he goes to Yuta’s first session instead of his own. Even when he talks to Yuta’s mentors the days (and then weeks after). The only thing Taeyong doesn’t do is call Yuta’s family. He doesn’t need to worry them like that...even if he himself is petrified at all the worse case scenarios going through his head on a nightly basis.

Yuta never comes home.

Because three days ago he met someone. Yuta is holed up in the bathroom, half way through his second missed session of the day. Water runs cold from the faucet before him and every few seconds he places his hand underneath the cool stream in hopes that he won’t continue to electrify the metal faucet. Every few seconds he’s brought the same disappointment. Yuta swallows hard, choking back the sob in his throat as he watched sparks climb up the through the water and shoot off the metal faucet. “Damn it…” He hisses, trying once more because maybe, just maybe this time will be different. It never is.

He scrambles as the door opens, shutting off the water and reaching for a paper towel from the stack as if there isn’t electricity still buzzing in the air. The other student blinks before a smirk spreads over his lips. “You okay?” He asks, raising a semi-shaved brow.

“Fine,” Yuta bites back.

“You don’t look okay.”

“What do you know? It’s not like you--” Oh. Yuta pauses. It’s Oh Sehun. He has a bit of a reputation around the school. A little bit of a delinquent who still manages to come out on top of his lessons. He’s a year older than Yuta. He bows deeply both in greeting and apology. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn like that.”

Sehun simply shrugs. “I don’t care much about stuff like that. But I was curious what you’re doing.” Yuta starts to stammer for an answer but Sehun cuts him off hardly a second after. “Hey no worries. You know you’re not the only one having trouble with their powers. You should come meet my crew, they might be able to help you.”

Yuta agrees for a few reasons:  
First, his fear of going to his classes and showing he’s losing his control mounts every day. He’s been skipping for the last week and with no signs of getting better isn’t sure when he can go back; if at all.

Second, Sehun has a reputation but it’s not necessarily bad. Just a few misdemeanors here and there; mostly talking about to the teachers and overtly expressing some anti-”normie,” as he called them, behavior. Yuta can’t picture his group being that much worse. Sehun was still top of his class after all.

Third, and probably the most important, he no longer feels safe when Taeyong links their fingers together or curls around him. Taeyong, whose own powers exist precariously, who can absorb others’ abilities, didn’t deserve to take on this kind of mismanaged mess. Yuta would come back when he was better. That’s what he decides as he follows Sehun out of the bathroom.

The warehouse they’ve claimed as their hideouts is musty and dank, but over the years Yuta has grown used to it. The sagging couches and busted electronics give the place character, and Chanyeol’s penchant for random neon lights makes it aesthetic in ways that Yuta would make fun of if he wasn’t so scared of the fire bender. There’s only one working television with an old NES hooked up to it that Jongin is almost always perched behind. And a keyboard in the corner sits with a layer of dust, untouched since Yixing was kicked out of the country upon discovery.

The six of them (seven if they count Yixing) are a ragtag group Yuta never, in maybe a million years, would’ve thought he’d become a part of. But he likes them--Sehun, Chanyeol, Jongin, Jongdae, and Baekhyun. He likes how welcoming they are, how they don’t judge him for...well, anything. And while they’re a little more intense in their anti-”normie” ideals than Yuta he’s come to see where they’re coming from. Jongin especially, whose best friend and boyfriend Taemin was apprehended in the middle of his Upper Level working job and tormented until his own powers suffocated himself. He survived, but it’s never been the same for any of them. Jongdae and Baekhyun also have a lover who works between worlds, but Xiumin seems to be getting them insight on what’s happening and the best places to target for their Plans in between his shifts at the nursing home.

Jongdae is his favorite for a few reasons. For one, their powers are similar. He loves watching the older’s fingers dance with lightning the same way his buzzes with electricity. And the biggest difference between them, Jongdae’s ability to summon storm clouds, supplies reason number two. Yuta’s body buzzes in anticipation--waiting for the fizz of power to surround their air after the first cries of thunder roar in. He extract the static around them with a deep breath and lets his veins alight upon exhale. It’s the most whole he’s ever felt. Other than when Tae--

“You know you can get this feeling elsewhere.” Baekhyun chimes, gaze tossed over his shoulder towards Yuta while Jongin mutters expletives of success upon succeeding in another level of Double Dragon. “Jongdae doesn’t always have to summon storms.”

“Hm?” Yuta’s head tilts casually but his eyes are wide and eager to hear more. The more he loses his control the more he loves how current fills him up. As if maybe, by consuming more power he has control over what leaves him. A balance, counteracting one action with another.

“Here,” Baekhyun fishes a small plastic wrapped packet from his pocket and tosses it over. Yuta fumbles, snatches it before it hits the ground, and blinks down at the batteries in his palm. “What the fuck?”

“Are you giving away my stuff?” Jongdae’s whine cuts through the small room, the man himself appearing in the doorway with a towel around his neck.

“You left the water running,” Chanyeol calls, clearly peeved at his hot hands getting soaked from Jongdae’s carelessness. They’d fitted one of the old bathrooms with a removable shower head and reconfigured a drain so they could have most everything they wanted conveniently in one, old space. It wasn’t the best but Yuta likes it much more than having nothing at all. At the very least it means whatever weird funk floats around the warehouse isn’t coming from any of them.

“Oops,” Jongdae grins before turning back to Yuta. “So you gonna take ‘em or what?”

“I...I don’t?” Yuta questions, peeling away the clear plastic. He tosses them into the air a few times. They’re just regular...hard...cold batteries that fritz a little bit when he touches both ends.

“It’s easy kid,” Jongdae plops into the chair next to Yuta and takes one from him, placing it just before his lips. “Say ‘ah~’.”

Yuta quirks a brow. There’s no way. He can’t just eat inanimate objects. They may be mutants but they’re not that weird.

“Aaaaah~” Jongdae repeats and though there’s that kitten smile on his lips Yuta can tell he’s getting annoyed.

“A-ah?” Yuta’s mouth opens slowly just before Jongdae pops it in, slapping his palm flat against him and cooing, “Swallow, swallow~” until Yuta finally does so.

When he’s freed he starts coughing. There’s still a heavy, lumpy feeling in his throat despite the battery going down and he hates it. “What the fuck was that I-”

“Give it a minute,” Baekhyun calls. “You’ll feel great!”

And sure enough, soon enough, Yuta does. There’s something new in his veins and he thinks about science class, breaking down an understanding of calories as units of energy and how it’s important to consider them in the food you consume. These weren’t calories. But these particles of electricity took to him like fire and brimstone, sticking heavy to his bones until every muscle wrapped around them could zing in electric delight. Dark eyes looked down at his hand, watching electricity course off of him in waves, tense and ready like a scorpion about to strike. He turns it over a few times before glancing back to the remaining two batteries and wonders, if he had those now too how amazing would it be?

Jongdae snatches them away before he can test his hypothesis. “Another day kid. Learn to live with that one in your system first. And Byun,” he whines, smacks Baekhyun upside the head, forcing his head down, and he and Jongin simultaneously lose their match. They groan (Jongin) and curse (Baekhyun). “Don’t give away my stuff without asking anymore yeah?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doyoung's proposal may make or break Taeyong's resolve in their relationship. And Johnny and Ten recover.

Ten bounds out of the room and envelops Taeyong in his arms, bringing them together in a swift kiss. Taeyong, in turn, secures his hold over Ten’s still fraying seams.

“Johnny’s awake,” Ten grins against Taeyong’s lips. “He said it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says with a little laugh, kissing Ten again. “I guess I have a promise to keep then, huh?” He maneuvers them around so he can drop the spatula he was working with onto the counter. The now free hand finds its way into Ten’s silver hair and he tilts his head a bit, letting Ten come to him when the bedroom door clicks open again and Johnny steps out.

There’s a soft moan from one (or both) of them, teeth and tongues clashing slowly before Johnny’s laugh breaks Ten away with a smirk.

“Couldn’t wait for me?”

Ten sticks his tongue out, eyes creasing with his smug smile.

Johnny looks tired. He always looks tired after turning with deep, dark bags under his eyes and a gray sheen to his skin as if its remembering how to retain color again. But the scratches are healed enough, with only little pinkish discolorations in their wake. They all are always grateful for that at least. And despite it all he smiles at the two of them, equal parts gratitude and sentiments of _‘I’m home.’_

Ten pulls Taeyong from his own thoughts by making grabby hands hands at Johnny and he’s sandwiched between them no sooner than he can take in a breath and brace himself. Johnny kisses his ear while Ten’s at his cheek.

“Th-this is a lot for one morning!” He struggles to get out, feeling his cheeks flushing a bright red as he tries to wiggle away. On one side is Ten’s lingering sadness and hopes to bury the past night further down than where he’s tucking his face into Taeyong’s exposed collar. On the other is Johnny with his confused exhaustion and heavy uncertainty; apologetic though not entirely sure why. This usually passes by the afternoon but is one of Taeyong’s least favorite feelings to shoulder; gelatinous and thick. “The food’s going to burn!”

Their stomachs rule out over their hearts and Taeyong is released. Toasted egg sandwiches are their breakfast.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Johnny asks in the middle of brewing post-meal green tea.

Taeyong nearly chokes on air. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’re at his place every week and you come home smelling like sex,” Ten chimes in. “You really sure he’s not your boyfriend.”

“We don’t talk like that. Besides if I was his boyfriend do you really think I’d still be kissing you both?”

Johnny shrugs. “It’s the twenty-first century and Ten and I are engaged. Hasn’t stopped us yet.”

Damn. Taeyong’s been easily outsmarted. “Either way,” he clears his throat and tries to act like his whole face isn’t bright red. “He’s not my boyfriend but he’s fine.”

“When do we get to meet him?”

Now Taeyong really chokes and it takes Johnny and Ten both clapping his back to get his coughing to stop.

“Taeyong check your phone,” Ten instructs before Taeyong has the chance to formulate an excuse. Ten took his moment to weakness to wrestle the plates from Taeyong’s hands in order to do the dishes.

“Huh?”

“You’re getting a call in three...two...one…”

Sure enough Taeyong’s phone erupts with the opening theme from an old anime he watched in middle school. He snatches it quickly, shooting Ten a dirty look for switching his phone off silent just to giggle at his expense now. “I swear I’m going to kick your ass one day for this,” he mutters before shuffling into his room. The mattress sinks with his weight as he answers. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” Sometimes Doyoung’s follow ups can feel a little overbearing. Everytime Taeyong forgets to text or waits too long to call the human will shoot him something to make sure he is alive. It’s well-intended, so Taeyong tried not to let it rub him the wrong way, even if constant check-ins can drain Taeyong’s introverted self. Today, though, there isn’t anything Taeyong wants more than to hear Doyoung’s voice.

“Yeah. I… I got home and things were a little crazy so…” Huh...Now that he’s here, taking a moment not just for himself but with Doyoung at the other end, Taeyong feels...exhausted.

“You haven’t slept, have you?”

“...How’d you know?”

“You’re always pretty poignant in the things you say, Taeyong. Whenever you waiver it’s either because you’re exhausted or hungry. I just took a guess.”  

“I ate with Ten and Johnny a bit ago so you’re right.”

“I’m going to hang up so you can take a nap.”

“No, wait! I...will sleep in a bit but can we talk for now?”

“Yeah. Of course.” There’s a rustling on the other end. Taeyong checks his calendar to confirm it’s a weekend and he’s not keeping Doyoung from work. Yep, Saturday. So Doyoung must just be shifting to a more comfortable position or something. He’s not going anywhere right now; thank the Gods. “You’re okay, right? Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay,” Taeyong’s voice is flat. His fingers pick at one of the loose threads on his fox’s ear.

“Are you really?”

“I’m...okay.” Doyoung knows Taeyong can’t lie. But more than that, he knows not to push him for the truth either.

“I could come over if you want. I don’t want you coming here and risking passing out along the way. I have a threshold for carrying people back to my apartment and you’ve well passed it.” He laughs and it pulls a small chuckle from Taeyong in tandem.

“It’s okay. Johnny and Ten _do_ want to meet you but I don’t know if I’m ready for that right now.” He shoots a glance over his shoulder. The door is closed but that doesn’t mean Ten isn’t tapping his phone. Taeyong draws his knees up onto the mattress and flops onto his right side, phone pressed between his left ear and shoulder. He draws the fox to his chest. “When...do I get to see you again, though?”

“When do you want to?”

Immediately. As soon as possible. In fact, Taeyong could nap right now and be back at Doyoung’s by evening. But… he didn’t want to impose. And he has promised Ten he’d stay around more. The three of them may be acting like nothing happened but the damage was done and the wounds shared between them, invisible, intangible, are still needing time to heal.

“I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” Taeyong can hear the smile on Doyoung’s voice. Maybe worse than how he feels right now is that he knows Doyoung’s campaigning will be full swing in a matter of weeks. He’s not ready for what it means for their semi-secret love life. He doesn’t want to think about going weeks without seeing the other now that he’s been so spoiled. He breathes a sigh through his nose. “Hey but,” Doyoung continues. “Can you keep next Friday open?”

“If there are no spirits to set free or Gods to pray home I promise I’ll be all yours.”

“You say as if you’re not already all mine.”

“Too smooth Doyoung,” Taeyong laughs, “You’re gonna melt me down at this rate.”

“I have to. It’s my duty as your cutest boy...toy.”

That pause causes Taeyong to swallow hard. He rolls to his other side, lets the phone fall against his pillow and pushes on. “The cutest, yes,” He agrees. “Hey...I think I’m going to take you up on that nap. Thanks for calling me Doyoungie.”

“Always. Let me know if you change your mind and want to meet sooner okay? Otherwise, Friday.”

“Friday,” Taeyong confirms. And he nearly misses it because Thursday’s pursuit of a poorly placed witchy coven carries well into Friday morning and by the afternoon Taeyong has almost sold his soul to the devil and lost two fingers for a brew _but_ he made it work and relocated them to a safer space--an empty basement beneath a restaurant owned by Sicheng’s friend--in just enough time to run home and get ready.  

\- - -

Same streets, same sidewalks, same blooming trees--this path is second nature to Taeyong now. So much so that he is certain he could make his way to Doyoung’s in his sleep. Sometimes he’ll pause just to watch one of his neighbors walk their dog or play with their kids. Nothing compels Taeyong more--the dog especially--but these are human people in human territory. He doesn’t need to risk attention here. Sometimes he just wishes that he could become as much a part of Doyoung’s community as he was becoming a part of Doyoung’s life.

Doyoung is always a consistent smile at the door, dressed in either a white button down tucked into dark slacks, or grey sweats with a long sleeve t-shirt, but the smells of his apartment always remained a mystery upon entering. Since their first homemade barbecue date Taeyong never knows what to expect. Tonight it smells sweet and strawberry-y. He cocks his head and raises a brow. “Pastries?”

“Trying a new recipe.”

“You don’t even have _old_ recipes,” Taeyong teases, stepping out of his shoes and onto the tips of his toes to press a swift kiss to Doyoung’s lips. “You never even used to cook before me.”

“Guess you’ve just changed me for the better.”

“I call bullshit. So what’s it about this time?”

“Hm?” Doyoung hangs Taeyong’s jean jacket up for him and follows the other from the small entrance way into the opening of his conjoined kitchen-living room. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t do excessively nice, food related things unless you’re buttering me up.” Taeyong turns, arms folded across his chest and grins, “I’ll eat all your desserts. Just tell me what you want in return.”

“I will,” Doyoung agrees easily, snaking his arms around Taeyong’s waist and giving him one good squeeze, and a peck on the cheek for good measure, before he slips back into the kitchen. “In time. What’s the saying, “patience is a virtue,” and you, who is trying to follow in the ways of the God of Slowness who brought us together, need to work on your patience.”

Taeyong is left speechless, caught huffing and pouting and everything in between because Doyoung has very successfully one-upped him. And in any other instance he’d be feeling very anxious at the prolonging of their conversation but Doyoung’s air is only playful and it lulls Taeyong into a state of serene security. “Fine,” he relents, trailing behind until he’s hit in the face with baking puff pastry and saccharine strawberry filling. “These better be the best things I’ve ever eaten though.”

Actually they’re close, though Taeyong has never been that discerning with sweets. Ten likes to tease that if someone layered frosting on top of a cell phone he’d eat that without a thought. It’s _not_ true but...Taeyong can’t exactly promise that he wouldn’t lick it off if he could guarantee the phone’s surface was bacteria free.

Pastries don’t make for a proper dinner, though, and Taeyong hasn’t eaten since right before Thursday’s mission so they order chicken as well and soon forget themselves in each other’s lips and hands between pressing “Order” and when Doyoung’s doorbell rings. And Taeyong, who was successful in getting Doyoung out of most of his clothes, loses the battle of “who is more dressed to answer” and has to retrieve their meal.

They resume right where they left off, tasting a little more like honey garlic than fruit jam but relatively unchanged otherwise. Doyoung finally pulls Taeyong into the same state of undressed that inhibited him from grabbing the chicken, dark jeans and a darker t-shirt strewn across the couch and floor haphazardly. Taeyong makes a mental note to clean that up later, along with the scraps of chicken bones and emptied containers, but for now the top priority is getting both of their bodies into Doyoung’s bed.

He takes the lead tonight, too, pinning Doyoung back with a hand to his shoulder, the other exploring the divots in Doyoung’s abs and over his chest. They’ve learned to store things like extra condoms and tiny bottles of lubricant between the mattress and headboard or under the pillow--anywhere that’s arm’s reach because otherwise they’d be too preoccupied. Taeyong reaches beneath the pillow cushioning Doyoung’s neck and retrieves one, applies a generous amount to his fingers, and is quick to push into his lover at an achingly slow pace. His revenge for nothing; he just likes seeing Doyoung squirm, legs wrapping like a vice around Taeyong’s hips while he begs for more.  

He settles back between Doyoung’s arms after cleaning both themselves, and the mess outside, up and heaves a very contented sigh. His favorite place these days. His eyes slip shut and his breathing falls into a rhythm that would have him fast asleep if Doyoung’s voice didn’t pierce the peacefulness of his thoughts.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Taeyong mumbles back, rotates in Doyoung’s hold to press his face into his chest; just as a child who doesn’t want to wake up would do to his pillow.

That pulls a chuckle from Doyoung’s lips. Not one of his bolstering, consuming laughs where his mouth takes up half of his face but something soft; it’s infectious nonetheless. “Wake up, I want to ask you something.”

His hazy mind thinks it’s something fun and sexual, though they _just_ finished--maybe a new position or a new accessory--and the way Doyoung’s expressing himself in airy, cloud soft tones plays into Taeyong’s assumption that he’s being wooed by pastry, chicken, and sex for something Doyoung could have easily texted to him. He doesn’t remember that Doyoung asked for this date specifically. So when the human trails his fingers down Taeyong’s arm in order to take his hand and pull him upright until they’re both sitting, he’s more than a little confused.

“I have a...proposal,” Doyoung starts.

Taeyong looks between the teeth sinking into Doyoung’s lip and the way he’s linking their hands and thinks _dear Gods_ _please don’t let this be a marriage thing_.

It’s not. In fact, it’s much much worse.

“I want you to be part of my campaign.”

“Your...I’m sorry?”

“When I got into politics all I wanted was to help people in a way that, like, teachers and doctors and firefighters couldn’t. And this whole time I’ve worked to help a number of groups here but...since we’ve met I’ve felt certain I can make some real, honest to the Gods changes here. I like to think that we met for a lot of reasons. You work so hard to help your community. I want to help you even more.”

Maybe it’s good that their fingers are still linked because Taeyong only draws anxiousness with cracklings of anticipation. Not that he should think Doyoung wants to deceive him--in fact, his own hesitancy in the person he’s been advocating for all these months makes Taeyong even more unsettled. How quick he still is to distrust a human… even his own human. Taeyong starts to feel guilty.

That alone tells him this is a bad idea.

“Doyoung...I don’t think this is a smart move...for either of us,” he amends the last part quickly. “People like and support you, as far as I know. This could be your opportunity to make it. Don’t ruin your chances before they can even start.”

“But there’s no point in making it if I can’t accomplish something important. And there’s not much that’s more important to me than you are.”

Taeyong can hear the defiance in his tone. Stubbornness is very quick to etch itself into Doyoung’s being and right now it peeks its gaze out from behind Doyoung’s pretty dark eyes. Taeyong then braces himself to stand his own ground.

“Then _think_ about me. If I join you doesn’t that put me in danger? I’m illegal.”

“You’re not _illegal_ ,” Doyoung corrects then quickly cuts Taeyong off when his lips part to protest. “It’s just that...measures against people like you _are_ legal. I...looked into it. Because I knew you’d say something like this. There are unspoken ordinances and protocols in place that are defined as ‘for the greater good’ but in no law books does it state you’re illegal.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Taeyong’s getting a little exasperated now. He wants to pull his hands away from Doyoung’s and march home. He wants to go to sleep.

“I can protect you. I can make sure you’re safe. You’ll be part of my campaign, you’ll get all the same perks I’m given.”

“But what about my friends? What if they find Ten or Johnny or Sicheng in hopes of stopping this…idea of yours?”

“We can keep them safe too. We can--” But Taeyong tugs harshly on Doyoung’s arm via his hand and he shuts up. He hates that there are tears in his eyes. He hates that he can’t just go along with Doyoung’s well-wishing. He hates that he’s about to say:

“Doyoung you’re so kind. But until a few months ago you didn’t know people like me were real. You...you’re allowed to live in the comfort of your dreams because they...they don’t have actual consequences.” He looks away because he can feel himself starting to cry and he despises that part of the reason for it comes from the frustrated, emotion-prompting shock to Doyoung’s system Taeyong is delivering right now. Doyoung may think he’s going to cry but Taeyong’s just doing it all for him. “Because if we do this and you lose all that happens is you lose your political race. But for me and my friends...this could be it.”

The silence that stretches between them after that claws at Taeyong hungrily. It’ll eat him up if he’s not careful. But then Doyoung speaks again, and it’s hurried and a little harsh; maybe a touch offended. “You know I’d never do that-- I’d never let that happen!”

“I know, Doyoung. I know you wouldn’t. That doesn’t mean I know it won’t happen still. You’re one man facing against a world of prejudice,” he tries to smile but it wavers under a stream of warm tears.

Doyoung has this way of really looking like a bunny, especially when his brows crease in concern. It always makes Taeyong chuckle, whether he’s thinking about it or not. He just tries not to as he is asked, “But aren’t you too?”

“Yeah. But the difference is… I’ve been in this for a lot longer. I‘m one man with very little left to lose.”

Slowly, Taeyong watches as his hands are gathered up in the other’s and Doyoung brings them to his lips. His eyes slip shut, a breath of a sigh ghosting over Taeyong’s skin and prickling it with goosebumps. He can only blink as they’re held there like that for a few long, shared breathes.

“I want to try,” Doyoung whispers, pleads, finally looking back up with eyes as glassy as Taeyong’s own. “I want to help you, more than anything else in this world.”

The ground Taeyong had rooted himself to starts to shake. His footing is faulty, he can’t hold out. It’s one thing to resist Doyoung’s stone hard stubbornness. It’s another to strike him while he’s raw. Taeyong was neither prepared nor committed enough to take this on. “Fine Doyoung…” He relents, folding fast--nearly. “On one condition. You have to be among us first, for at least a few weeks. You have to feel what it’s like to be where you’re not wanted, see all the types of beings you say you want to help. You need to realize it’s not just me--it can’t just be me. You save all of us or nothing at all. _Nothing_. And that includes me, too.”

Taeyong feels Doyoung before his eyes can adjust to catch his movements and he falls against his chest with a soft _oof._ He had thought the other would be angry but it’s only blueberries for gratitude and citrus zest marking relief. Shaky hands raise to wrap around Doyoung too.

“I know. I will. I promise,” he assures, clinging tightly. “I’ll do everything I can to convince you, Taeyong. Everything I can to help you, too. Just trust me.”

“I do…” It’s uncertain but honest all the same. “I’ll see.” He peels back. “Come over to start and we’ll...go from there. I’ll need time to run it by Sicheng anyway.”

When the conversation comes to a close, Taeyong tries to shake away the anxiousness and let Doyoung dote on him with sweet kisses and the leftover sugary desserts. The human is trying and Taeyong doesn’t need insight to his emotions to confirm it. If only Doyoung’s commitment and effort was all they needed to ensure success.

The world is too dark for that.

And it’s hard for Taeyong to fall asleep that night. Despite being surrounded in Doyoung’s scent and wrapped tightly in his arms, Taeyong can’t relax. He crawls out from the bed and shivers when his bare feet hits the cold floor. Ah… but he won’t steal Doyoung’s slippers like he usually does. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right. Sometimes Taeyong takes long baths when he’s feeling particularly stressed out, and he eyes Doyoung’s shower now. It’d be too much..tip him off, wake him up, and Taeyong wasn’t ready to face his own thoughts head on; yet alone share them with Doyoung. Then he considers texting Ten until he hears his friend’s voice ringing his “I told you so’s” around his head. That won’t do… And Ten _didn’t_ warn him about anything like this to be able to leverage that over Taeyong. He’d said Doyoung would hurt him, rat him out, threaten him. And maybe...he was worried a little bit on those latter issues too but Doyoung’s intentions were good. Doyoung won’t risk Taeyong’s life so recklessly.

He returns once he’s splashed water on his face and played about eight rounds of his mobile game, tucking himself in his lover’s arm yet again. Doyoung folds around him unconsciously and Heavens help him though Taeyong is so nervous at the thought of what Doyoung has proposed he is weak to the warm excitement that lingers in his human lover despite his sleeping state. He wants it to grant him peace. “Please,” a whisper, hardly audible on his lips. “Just let this work out....”


	7. Chapter 7

He doesn’t tell Ten or Johnny why he’s changed his stance on bringing the “not boyfriend” over, and to his fortune they don’t ask. He’s actually surprised by Ten’s eagerness. (“I thought you hated him?” “Can’t hate someone who makes my Taeyonggie so happy!” “P-please stop pinching my cheeks.”) And some part of Johnny seems to be somewhat excited at not being the only human in the group-- or that’s what Taeyong assumes from his outbursts reminiscing about times long past.

“They’re weird,” Taeyong says nervously, walking Doyoung through familiar steps from his door to Taeyong’s own. He knows its a built-in precaution. He doesn’t want their address out in the open anywhere, leaving the only people to know their whereabouts to their landlord and Johnny’s family, and especially not in Doyoung’s hands.  _ It’s not because you don’t trust him _ , he tries to reassure himself after offering to meet at Doyoung’s apartment and walk him over,  _ it’s because if anything goes wrong you’ll stay safe _ . The likelihood of Doyoung’s phone getting hacked is certainly low but Taeyong just cannot take the risk. 

Thank the Gods that Doyoung doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t even question when he answers the door looking so nice in a lavender turtleneck and black jeans. Taeyong has to take a moment’s pause just to enjoy the look in full before he nervously adjusts his own worn out bomber jacket and second guesses the rips in his jeans. Then they’re off, and Taeyong takes the twenty minutes of time to prep the other for the whirlwind of uncertainty that is Johnny and Ten. “They’re weird,” he repeats, this time with a firm nod.

“Yeah?” Doyoung asks with a soft laugh. “How so?”

“They’re just… They’re very…  _ them _ .”

“Taeyong, love, I know you’re nervous,” he rubs his hand over Taeyong’s shoulder. “But that makes no sense to someone who doesn’t know them.”

With a groan Taeyong places his face into his palms and scrubs his hands just enough that when he pulls away he’s smudged some of the makeup he spent an hour trying to get right. 

“Love,” Doyoung says again, chuckles kindly, and tugs them off the sidewalk to a space between the trees. “Take a deep breath, okay? Let’s forget all about the campaign I asked you about and just treat this like I, the person you’ve been seeing for, what? Two months now? Am meeting your best friends.”

“That’s  _ just _ as scary,” Taeyong huffs.

“Yeah of course but I’m thinking it’s less scary than ‘I want you to risk it all to help me change the world.’”

Taeyong’s lips turn into a tight frown and Doyoung tugs him to his chest. “ _ Breathe _ … You’re doing me so many favors. I know that. And I’m going to do everything I can to make this as easy, and hopefully as enjoyable, as I can for you. I’m really excited you know? You talk about them all the time. I finally get to meet the most important people in your life.” 

Taeyong lets out a long and slow breath out through his nose and nods. This whole week he’d let the weight of Doyoung’s campaign rest heavy on his shoulders and taint all the good moments they shared. His fatal flaw. He just can’t separate the good from the anxiety inducing bad and he’s blaming Doyoung for it at every possible chance. He’s letting it influence the way he sees their past moments together; he’s questioning Doyoung’s intentions. It takes a squeeze at his hand and those soft bunny eyes to pull him back to right now. It takes the feel of Doyoung’s genuine tang of excitement and spurts of nervousness to remind him that the other has only ever been open and honest with him. If exploiting his abilities (and Doyoung) is needed to feel better then...Taeyong will apologize later. 

For now, though, his features soften and nods twice. “It’ll be something that’s for sure.” 

“Something good, I’m sure.” 

Johnny welcomes them warmly when they arrive because Ten--to Taeyong’s shock--is busy in the kitchen finishing dinner.

“I thought we were ordering food?”

“Surprise?” Johnny beams before turning his attention to Doyoung. 

“So, you must be Johnny?” Is the last thing Taeyong’s ears catch before Doyoung and Johnny are walking towards the tiny table they’ve set up at the edge of their small kitchen.  _ So you’re the other human _ , Taeyong feels in the pit of his eardrums and when he subconsciously latches to Ten he puts the divide in place between human and  _ not _ . 

Doyoung and Johnny share more than their humanity. Taeyong and Ten can only listen, pressed comfortingly, if not with uncertainty, against each other by the lines of their legs, while they recount the shared stomping grounds of their youth. The eldest of them all, Johnny was no longer in the area by the time Doyoung was able to run around but they still recount fondly the same greenery and parks. And though Doyoung sometimes succumbs to the throws of nervousness and stumbles over some of his words, he keeps the conversation up eagerly with a lively glint in his eye.

“I didn’t know there was a shrine so close by,” Doyoung marvels. “That explains some of grandmother’s stories. But okay, moving onward, I realize I’ve taken up a lot of this conversation with my own childhood.” He blushes, blinks shyly to Taeyong to ask  _ how am I doing _ , and when he receives a smile back looks between Johnny at his direct right and Ten who is across from him and next to Taeyong to ask, “how did the two of you meet?”

Ten draws his tongue over the corner of his lips and leaves his fork hanging from his mouth to collect his answer. His gaze shifts to Taeyong. The red head shakes his head. Making up his mind, Ten looks back to Doyoung. “We met at the university Taeyong and I attended. He was visiting.”

Taeyong has never felt Ten this stiff in all of their life shared together and in the second that he wonders if this prickly sharp sensation is his alone to bear he feels Johnny’s foot shift underneath the table to tap at Ten’s. Only Doyoung seems oblivious--or at least Taeyong hopes, assuming his rigid posture is merely regular old nerves and not a feeling from the situation. 

They’re all trying, though. Taeyong is so, so grateful for that.

Ten does loosen up eventually when Doyoung engages him in conversations about new phones and lets Ten fiddle around with the latest Samsung he’s only dreamed about hijacking from a store. “You know, if you  _ really  _ wanted to avoid phone bills I could mod it. It would just take--”

“Ten!” Taeyong, gently, slams his hand on his best friend. “You can’t just convince a politician to illegally alter his phone.”

“Why? Aren’t they all corrupt anyway?” He glances to Doyoung and smirks.

The youngest just laughs. “Most, yeah. My record’s pretty clean though and I’d like to keep it that way. I appreciate the thought though.” So he only has to suffer through Ten removing some predetermined, unnecessary apps and speeding up his motherboard before they’re able to shift focus on dessert.

After the meal Taeyong is once again wrestled back into his seat and as far away from the kitchen sink as possible. “Wow you’re even harder to hold down when he’s here. Are you trying to show off or something?” Ten huffs and giggles all in one go. Taeyong knows his showiness is merely an excuse to be sitting in his lap right now--it’s how Ten shows dominance--but he lets the other be for now. His arms wrap slowly around Ten’s waist instead and he props his chin on his shoulder, watching Doyoung wash dishes while Johnny dries. 

Johnny has always been magnetic, but Taeyong has never seen him stick to someone so ready and willingly. Bubbles of comfort pop pleasantly off of him, like he’s returned home after a long, and maybe a little arduous, journey. 

“It’s been some time since he’s been among other humans, hasn’t it?” Ten, not a mind reader, but certainly keyed into everything as it pertains to Johnny, comments under his breath. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but he must miss it at least a little. Being with his own and all.”

“You know he’d call you his own sooner than any regular human, Ten.”

He laughs at that. “You know what I mean though.” 

Taeyong’s eyes trail away from the scene as Ten’s fingers start to absently trace around the seams of Taeyong’s shirt sleeve. 

“I’m glad you brought him over,” he adds after a moment. “Just because I get to see Johnny like this. You should bring him over more.”

“Yeah… maybe I should.” 

But the sentiment doesn’t last long. There remains the elephant in the room that neither has dared to touch; and Taeyong tips them off to it when he forgets to reign in his bad habits and starts to chew on his nail after Doyoung has left. 

“What is it?” Johnny asks from his spot wrapped firmly around Ten, long limbs wholly hugging his littler lover. 

“There’s a...thing.”

“What thing?” Ten cocks a brow. Then, suddenly, before Taeyong can stammer through the next part, asks, “Are you going to  _ propose _ to him? Is  _ that _ why you brought him over?  _ Oh my god _ , Johnny!”

“N-no!” Taeyong stuttered instead. “I’m not. I’m not!” 

“Hm...disappointing. I think I’d make a great best man and it’s about time you settled down.” 

“I literally hate you,” Taeyong, flushing, startled, caught between too many thoughts and a lot of anxieties, huffs back. “Just last week you were saying how you didn’t want to let me go!”

“It’s a new week,” Ten shrugs. He turns to Johnny with a grin and on cue they start mock crying in tandem. “Johnny...our little baby bird is growing up…”

“How sweet. How sweet.”

Everything in Taeyong tells him to throw the kitchen table their way but he refrains. “Guys,  _ please. _ ”

“Okay. Okay. Enough teasing,” Johnny appeases. “What’s up, Taeyong?”

“Doyoung...well…” He’s lost all the speeches he’s been rehearsing each night he couldn’t sleep. Taeyong’s eyes drift from Johnny and Ten to the floor, then his hands, then the wall. They can’t seem to settle. “He…” He draws his tongue over his chapped lips and swallows. 

Here it goes. 

“He wants to make  _ our _ rights part of his upcoming campaign. He wants me to help him.” 

“Our…” Johnny starts. “You mean like…”

“Yeah. Years of oppression. Being hunted, being imprisoned, being killed...being written out of history or as the bad guys. He wants to take on all of that. Bring us into the public eye and make things right.”

Ten snorts immediately. “What a joke.”

“H-hey!”

“You believe him, Taeyong? Really?”

“I thought you liked him!”

“Yeah, as your  _ boyfriend _ but not as our lord and savior. The last thing I want is to have to worship some human who found the goodness in his heart to try and rescue us. It’s not going to work anyway.”

Taeyong gapes because Ten is saying everything that he, himself, has tried to shove down into the pit of his mind. But right now he can’t just agree. He owes Doyoung more confidence than that. “You don’t know. If I’m working with him--”

“You really think that’s enough? You and your complex?”

_ Complex.  _ Tears prick behind his eyes. “No Ten. I don’t.” Taeyong’s hands have already balled into tight fists threatening to pierce the top layers of his skin. “But...but he wants to try and I want to let him-- I want to  _ help _ him. I told him--… Fuck.” He turns sharply and drags his forearm over his eyes. There goes the rest of his time dedicated to his eyeliner.

“I told him he has to do it for all of us. All or nothing. That’s why I wanted you to meet. And I want to take him to the bar. I want him to see all of it-- all of us, and then decide. Because I… I want to believe him. I want him to do this. I’m  _ tired _ Ten. I’m tired of going out there every day and praying our kind doesn’t get caught before I get there. Or worse, that it doesn’t happen while I’m there. I’m not a hero because I want to be. You don’t feel the suffering that each and every one of us holds deep in our hearts. You don’t have to navigate through bleak, black auras because we all know we’re unwanted. I have my morals, sure, but I have my own wants too and I want it to just  _ stop  _ and not feel bad doing it. I want to lie low and live in something more than everyone else’s depression once and for fucking all. I’m tired. I’m--”

Johnny’s hands fall one on his arm and the other to his chin. “Taeyong? Hey… Hey, breathe. Shh…” 

Over his shoulder Ten looks shocked between Taeyong’s tirade and Johnny’s abandoning him. Johnny is still coaxing him to breathe. His hand slips around Taeyong’s own and Johnny brings it to his chest, pacing each inhale and exhale so that Taeyong can follow.  “There…” He says after a few long minutes. “You’re okay, okay? We’ll figure it out. We’re behind you.”

Taeyong wants to nod but glances off to catch Ten’s eyes instead. He doesn’t seem as sure.

And that night, in another lapse of insomnia, Taeyong hears them yelling. Or rather, he hears Ten yell and Johnny’s naturally loud voice trying to placate him.

“But he’s a human!” Ten slams his fists against something. “We can’t trust that!”

“But  _ I’m _ human,” Johnny returns with a note in his voice that Taeyong reads as pain. 

“You’re different.”

“Ten,” Johnny’s tone grows firmer than Taeyong has heard in a long time. “If you’re making assumptions about all humans then isn’t it no better than what the rest of us think of you?”

“But humans hurt you too,” Ten bites back. “Your very own parents…” The conversation trails into English so Taeyong gives up his eavesdropping. His fox is firmly back in his grasp, body curled around it tightly. A number of texts from Doyoung wait in his phone with varying degrees of  _ “I thought that went really well! I’m so glad I met them and it makes me feel even better about our plans. Thank you Taeyong. I love you.”  _ in each message. He doesn’t have the stomach to answer them at all.

“It’s be easier if you were here…” He whispers to the fox, nuzzling into its ear. “Things could’ve been different then.”

\- - -

Ten knocks on his door that next afternoon. It’s very unlike him.

Taeyong, with his heart in shambles and the whole day off, hasn’t moved much from the spot he’d settled in. And though he’s sent a few replies back to Doyoung lying about his emotions, things like showering and eating and the like were thrown away long before the sun rose. 

Ten knows it’s all because of him. That’s why he lets himself inside even though he hasn’t received permission yet to do so. That’s much more in character. 

“Taeyong?”

Nothing. They’ve fought before but not like this. And Taeyong can’t quite rescue them from it right now-- or rather, he’s not sure he wants to. His body rises and sinks with the weight of Ten perching on the corner of his bed.

“Taeyong you don’t have to say anything but...please listen to me okay?”

He shifts and tries to hide further in the little bit of bed sheet he’s pulled over his head so Ten tries all the same.

“I was really hard on you last night. I think I was just scared. Or rather…Johnny made me realize I was scared.” Not one to trail needlessly with his words, Ten cuts to the chase. “I’m not going to say I agree because I still...don’t, exactly. But if I believe in anyone it’s you. So if this is what you want to do I’ll support you.” 

Taeyong remains quiet for a few moments longer; enough time that Ten finally gives up and starts towards the door. “I don’t know if I want to do it.”

“...What? But you said…”

“I know. Because I’m trying to believe in it too.” Slowly Taeyong pushes himself upright but he can’t find it in him to look at Ten. Honestly, he wonders if telling the truth is the right move. He doesn’t want to add more fuel to Ten’s fire. “I trust Doyoung a lot and no matter how hard I try, I can’t find any bad intentions in him.” He lets out a sigh. “I think that’s the first problem. I need to let myself trust him.” 

Ten has come back to his bed and though Taeyong also can’t feel any anger sparking within him, he still doesn’t feel safe enough to lock their eyes yet. He continues, “I want him to do it. I can’t help but think how nice it could be if we were treated like normal. I know it’s a fantasy but...but maybe Doyoung can make it happen. And maybe I can help him do it.”

“...If there’s anyone who could do it I think it’d be you.”

Taeyong scoffs at that. After last night, being branded with a savior complex, he finds it hard to agree. 

“I don’t know,” He says instead. 

Ten lets out a sigh.

“You said you want to bring him to the bar…?” 

“That’s the next step. Just to see how he responds when he realizes we’re not all...like us. That there’s a whole community of good and bad a questionable just like in the human race.” 

“Right. All or nothing,” Ten recalls from their fight.

Finally Taeyong brings their eyes to meet. He nods. “All or nothing.”

The bed beneath them shifts again as Ten sinks his palm into the mattress and opens his body more towards Taeyong. That’s one of them no longer closed off. Taeyong unfolds his legs from underneath him in response. “I’ll go with you,” he says, to Taeyong’s shock. “I’ll go with you to the bar. I want to see how he reacts, too. And...if anything happens, I want to be there with you. Just to be safe.”

“You’re joking,” Taeyong starts to draw back in on himself but Ten’s voice cuts the action short.

“I wouldn’t offer myself up if I didn’t want to,” Ten lets out a wry laugh and smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know I’m a coward.” 

Twelve hours ago maybe Taeyong would agree but now he can’t handle the thought. “Hey,” he mutters and finally untangles himself from his own body and the worn out (or in Johnny’s terms “well-loved”) fox plush to meet Ten head on. “Don’t say that about my best friend.” 

That warms Ten right up and Taeyong feels embers seep slowly into the pit of his chest, as well. 

“So it’s a date?”

“Yeah. A date.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for embarking on this journey with me <3 Comments and kudos are loved and appreciated! You can also chat with me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/ChibiKadaj) or curiouscat (https://curiouscat.me/ChibixKadaj)!


End file.
